I was reading in the library today- silence – or about as close as I ever get to it. Only ambient sounds, the air conditioner switching on, a fly buzzing in and out of the shafts of sunlight at the window. An elevator ding from downstairs. Incessant motion in my head – the words on the page talking persistantly. Far more silent was the scene outside the window of people moving about, trees swaying in the breeze, cars driving by – none of which I could hear, blocked by the glass and the lawn. Perhaps that scene was one concept of “visual” silence, but is it really silence, if you can imagine the sounds, even when you can’t hear them? Where is there silence in my artwork or is it always shouting?