It was covered with dawn (2021) is a six-minute video recording of videos of the land at my home which are projected on the interior of the barn attic roof. As the viewer watches, attention shifts between the blue-toned sheet metal and wooden rafters of the barn and the projected videos.

Nebulous colourations and shadings of lush greenery, emerald green plants, lilac purple flowers, marigold-coloured fields, evening skies, grasses, shrubs, and leaves, sway in the wind, and are bathed in the afternoon light, which glows of burning colours. The videos are recorded as if from a small creature’s view of the world, and travel over the barn’s roof as if the very tissue of its matter becomes alive or reawakened.

As the rhythms of the flowing summer world weave through the shadowy shell of the barn, it travels over the sheet metal surface of the barn attic roof, old protruding wooden trusses, that are faded, stained, and traced with tan brown and pale-yellow whirls, and covered with spider webs, dust and hay. The crystalline sheet metal surface is lit from below by the light of daytime. It seeps through the faint open edge in between the bottom of the roof and the attic wall, reflecting light beams across the metal in fading stripes of azure blue and steel-toned nightshades.

Meadows, leaves, flowers, and tufts of grass seem to become forests, greyish coral-toned bark like a vast ridged and rocky landscape, and a handful of moss like a shrubby field. This tininess is projected, as if in double dimensions and in a double place, or a double life. It is projected on the barn attic roof and deployed to dimensions beyond what is real. The miniature world becomes larger than the viewer.

Fragmented and repetitive, the video projection is unreliable, shifting like a tidal wave, yet barely moving forward in time. In this dreamscape, even the dust seems to become alive, as if terrestrial objects and the aged barn could glow through its inner walls, and become enlarged and concentrated, as though it were a center of interest, or a center of gravity. The projection fluidly slips between spaces, both earthly and familiar, and aerial and cosmic. Under the cover of colour, a superficial type of wonderment resonates in the shell of the barn. The timeworn and dusty space both denies the marvel of the projection and yet also becomes permeated in it, as though two places synthesize into one, which becomes airy like a nest in a tree.