A hollow plaster head filled with graphite powder is slowly but steadily pressed by a bench vise connected to a gear motor. The vise compresses almost imperceptibly, at a rate of one revolution per hour. After 40 hours (or, in other words, a standard 40-hour work week), the vise will fully close, completing the destruction of the head. When this has happened, a new head will take its place, and the cycle will repeat, as it does every week. The graphite powder that falls to the floor over the course of the days, alongside the destroyed head, materializes the passage of time and the action of what once was—a trace and memory of the destroyed head, a fine, white, ovoid plaster shell, almost like an egg.
Like a slow-motion performance, the objects fulfill their function; the materials, resisting destruction, act upon each other, showing us they are not passive objects. Identical actions yield different results. A piece created to be destroyed, its own action dictating its lifespan. The charcoal, in turn, not only represents a primary element of living beings but also serves as the graphite pencil with which we write and record our memory.
