As a child I had a sense of change based on snowfall. The snow's variations, in a deluge at times, expressed the time of day, or year. With the different surfaces, textures, points of crispness; in its piled up compositions seen from my window; in its various stages of melting or darkening; the way the light and the air related to its descend; a snow bank in the parking lot seemed static each passing day, a lonely berg topped with black soot; the shapes and the forms of the snow on the ground morphed not sequentially but in infinite transitions back and forth-until one day gone. This told me a lot about how the time was passing.

Snohole has that sense of events, or time, where the matter on one hand is made of permeable minute things, and on the other hand an overwhelming deluge of minute things in insurmountable inertia. The most penetrable opening, the hole made by minute things, swirled by laws of physical dynamics- that hole can be on one hand a great opening, a causeway to something, or on the other, an abyss that swallows. Snohole is also about opening, or dissolving, the video medium itself. Within the method and composition I saw the surface of video itself dissipating, porous, and the screen split open.