It is impossible in fact, to represent the qualities of Richard Serra’s “Shift”. The precise content of the work opposes any pictorial notions. I however, wish only to redefine certain qualities, and in a more personal manner. Only in stating this, can I continue.

There is no singular image I can recall of “Shift”. I remember being acutely aware of the sun’s position. The mild December afternoon was quickly coming to an end. The sun was low and it cast a rich sepia shadow over everything around. Trees became two dimensional silhouettes, marking the edge of the lot. The damp soil clung to our shoes, adding weight with every step. As we approached we could see the shifted walls. From where we stood the work splayed in the landscape below, in an almost buoyant state. At one point, seemingly from nowhere, the modest slope of the hill we had just walked down produced a triangle of human proportions. We soon realized the triangle was merely the tip left exposed. The topography had swallowed the majority of the rectangular wall it belonged to. We began to measure the site, not only visually, but physically: its height against ours, its length with our paces (of course each marched a different measure). We wove in and out.