There’s a lingering weight in the act of looking up at-planes, birds, and all that takes flight-tracing them with our gaze until they vanish from sight. We, who stand on solid ground with two wide, flat feet, can never truly know where the wind brushing past our foreheads begins, nor where it’s headed-the same wind that carries those flying forms above.
Perhaps that’s why.
To go against the wind, or to surrender to its current-only those in flight can know the answer. It’s a privilege granted to the ones who endure the burning friction of movement across the sky, a reward for their full-bodied resistance.
The stone in our hand has, since the age of great rock, longed for flight. It once stirred with longing, tilting its wide base upward as it watched distant silhouettes soar overhead. Worn down, weathered, and reshaped, it has now found its place in our palm. And if thrown, it will surely arc and fall. Still, we call it real, with a certain resolve. And in that name, Real Stone, we stand.
The fourteen artists of <The Stone We Hold> each present their own vision of what a “real stone” might be. A stone still dreaming of flight, resting in the warmth of a hand. A stone that once soared but now returns, yielding to gravity. A stone broken—its surface shattered by impact. Though their methods and materials differ, these works all revolve around the same quiet, unwavering question:
Where is this coming from, and where does it go?
This is a story of stones-of us-who throw ourselves into that question, wholly and without reservation. A story of how we come to call ourselves real. This exhibition invites you to trace those moments, and to discover, perhaps, your own real stone along the way.