Breath, the click on the mortal's metronome. A pendulum of air with one end inside me and one outside. The great oxidizer of my insides. I never rest, I need to tick to be alive. As I tick I lose my focus. As I tick, I don't see objects at once, I take glances, as I tick, and, as I tick, compose them into the object I think I am seeing. This work is about the act of seeing as much as the act of recognizing. The object, a sculpture drawn from the rest of my practice never fully enters the field of view. It floats in negative space untethered but locked in place by the stare of the beholder. The focus ring was moved with the pace of my breathing. The viewer essentially takes the place of the artist breathing slowly over his creation.