The Mine represents a place that feels like my own personal dimension. When I’m in it, there is nothing else. No light, all sounds drowned out by the water trickling from the ceiling, flowing out of holes clearly prepped for demolition, in to pools of decades old debris, encased in calcium and rust. Then, nothing. A complete absence of sensory input. Then I shine my light on a surface and see a bleeding wall or a box of forcite or a guest book. Signed it 13 times. I have photographed, measured, and mapped this mine. I couldn’t tell you why.