In this obligatory, Valentine’s Day post, I found a black heart shape made from the remains of an industrial adhesive. My guess would be it was used to glue a sign to the stucco wall. Now it seems to carry so much unintended meaning. All the big existential human conditions are here, love, loss, memory, time, etc., as well as some more sinister cultural impacts, a black heart, dripping with animosity stains the rough surface defying the smooth, clean modernist world, forgotten but yet stubbornly remaining as a reminder of our search and our loss.

Midtown, Manhattan.