A single white line of video light moves slowly over a pile of stones and debris. It is unclear whether the pile is made from the raw materials for building, the remains of a demolition, or the product of decay. Whether pre- or post-construction, the pile represents a position near the bottom of the arc of becoming: an entropic assembly of material either to-be-composed or decomposing. Across this, the white line of light cuts a kind of index mark, a way of traversing the material’s topography in time.

The line of light is “playing” the rough material that it glides across, like the perforated scroll of a player piano, or the long white cursor that is ubiquitous in audio software interfaces. At the same time, the line is being deformed by that material texture and form, like the undulating lines of a topographical map. This dual function remains suspended in the work: if the line is a cursor, the pile becomes a composition-in-process, while if the light forms a line of topography, the pile is its landscape, its given environment.

In 2025 Graydon collaborated with artist Katarina Burin for a new approach to this work, which they titled Band Pass (altering my course). Burin’s work confronts forms of memory, from trauma to fantasy, embedded in architectures; and she and Graydon are currently collaborating on new work combining sculpture and sound. Extending that collaboration, Burin shipped a crate of material from her studio in Cambridge, MA to Graydon. Placing this material in a pile that includes destroyed sculptures, failed drafts, and models and molds for future sculpture, Graydon then projects a slowly moving band of light over the collection, resembling a map’s line of topography or the cursor in an audio application, passing over a waveform as it plays.