In was initiated from the tic-tac sound of the alarm clock on my cabinet. It was weirdly loud in a quiet morning, when the sunlight came waking me up. I sat on the bed and stared at it with an empty head.
A few weeks later, when I had a chance to go back home in Vietnam, I found this old clock, which had been a fascination of my childhood, with the swinging cat-eyes. The cracking was happened on my Mom’s trip from my hometown to Ho Chi Minh City. She brought me the clock on the last day before I left the country.
When I came back to the States, I started to make the bench with found pieces of wood. Then I put all the parts together, including a mirror, the bench and the clock, inside my studio space.
The studio then shuddered lightly, with the thin voice of the clock, tic-tac-tic-tac, pouring in, day through night. |
