The piece draws from the story of the Cavalier aircraft that crashed off Bermuda’s coast in 1952. What was once a machine built for movement, travel, and connection became part of the ocean floor, absorbed into the island’s mythology. Over time, tragedy turned into folklore. History softened into story.

I was drawn to that transformation.

For me, Cavalier isn’t about disaster. It’s about time.

There’s something poetic about an object built to dominate the sky ending up claimed by water. That tension sits at the heart of this piece. Air and sea. Ambition and fragility. Presence and disappearance.

Cavalier reflects on how quickly permanence can shift. What feels solid today can become story tomorrow. And yet, in becoming story, it gains a different kind of permanence.

The plane no longer flies.
But it remains.