"What will the creature made all of seadrift do on the dry sand of daylight; what will the mind do, each morning, waking?"

- Ursula K. Le Guin, The Lathe of Heaven

 

Red Work was a performance about the failure of discourse. For four consecutive hours, I swept 40 pounds of red sand in an open gallery. Passerby were free to participate or observe. The performance was streamed live on instagram TV.

 

What work is to be done and who does it? How can we push ourselves and others beyond the shuffling of minutiae, the endless feed of inactivity?