There is a room that is neither office nor home.

It is the corridor between the two — the last train, the elevator at 2am, the desk lamp still burning after everyone else has gone. This collection lives there.

A self that persists after the first one has been used up; the collection imagines a body that has kept working long after it stopped being asked to. It draws on a wider culture of overwork, the quiet, global erosion of a self that has produced for so long it no longer remembers its own shape outside of that function. Tailoring turns rigid, then slack; formalwear collapses; suiting fabric appears stretched thin, worn past its intended hours.

The figures who inhabit this world are not resting and not working, they are suspended between the two, non-receptive, moving through both spaces without fully arriving in either. What remains is the residue of habit: a collar still buttoned, a briefcase carried out of muscle memory, a body performing rest without feeling it.

A study of what's left of a person once the difference between labor and life has quietly disappeared.