One day threads before to after explores what it means to make distance visible; of the division between presence and absence; of water as offering the tactility of space. The hollow of a container keeps and shapes the material around it. Within places, questions unfold: what does it mean to hold a moment in the shape of my body, in its coded gestures? What is it to say that material, like the body, holds memory in form, and that this memory becomes what we return to? The salinity of the human body mimics the salinity of the oceans—attuned, receiving. I bury my belongings in salt to remove residues of harm, but when I bury my body in salt, do I forget how I have been harmed?

Light flicks across water, changing its surface; the distance between water and light as infinite, disappears then returns.

Xan Shian, The distance between water and light, 2019, video projected on glass sheet, 3:49 looped.

Xan Shian, Photograph of my hands cupped around a small frog, Doon Hill, Aberfoyle, 1999/2019, scan of photograph taken by my father (M.E.), inkjet print on archival paper soaked in seawater, salt residue.

Xan Shian, Pearl found in my mouth while eating a mussel, 2019, inkjet print on archival paper soaked in seawater, salt residue.

Xan Shian, To make distance visible (clay), 2020, slip cast mussels from harvested clay.

Xan Shian, To make distance visible (Beithir), 2020, (found objects), steel hoses, tubing.

Xan Shian, To make distance visible (salt), 2019, (found objects) steel sheet, ceramic jug and bowl filled with seawater, continuous process, salt residue.