Stay

While you stand in front of the screen, a tree grows. Root down, trunk up, the crown ever wider. There is no button and no control: the tree grows simply because you are here.

Step away and it begins to wither. First the leaves fall, then the dry silhouette stands for a while and crumbles. Come back — it can no longer be saved. You can only grow a new one, through the dry roots of the old.

If you don’t stand still but walk and look around, couch grass creeps along the ground behind you: a grass that will never become a tree. And all around, with no help from you, bracken unfurls its fronds. It needs no one; it simply keeps moving at the edge of your vision — and pulls you to look.

Grass and bracken live forever. Only the tree can die.

If several people stand in front of the screen, each of them grows a tree of their own. The sensor records nothing: the work knows exactly one thing about you — whether you are near or far.