Pint, unfolded quietly in my studio from November 21, 2009, to April 2, 2010. Over those six months, I marked the passage of time by noting the date on a glass of water as it slowly evaporated. Each day, I watched as the water left behind a residue, its deposits forming a visible trace of time passing. Together, the dates and the remnants at the bottom of the glass created a quiet dialogue between abstract time and tangible change—between cause and effect.
I kept Pint on the sill in my kitchen, where I saw it every day. It became a part of my daily rhythm, a meditative reminder of how time leaves its mark in ways we don’t always notice. And then, one day, it was gone—wiped clear by accident. That erasure felt poignant, almost inevitable, as if it were a final gesture in the work’s quiet narrative about impermanence.