"listening with fortuna" 2024 Punta della Dogana, Venice, Italy. A Modern Art Museum in the former customs house, which now holds the Pinault Collection. On the roof, two life sized Atlas figures strain under the weight of a golden celestial sphere, atop them Fortuna spins East, then West, then east again, around and around, propelled the winds, in her arms she holds a sail in the shape of a wing. When I arrived in Venice on the Vaporetto to see the Biennale I was transfixed by the weather vane which was fabricated in 1677 by Bernardo Falcone. I decided to spend some time with her, with Fortuna. I arrived with my little cameras, at the public park with the notion of listening (echoing Fortuna listening to the wind on the roof above). I stuck a camera in the water and listened with it, a witnessing machine to listen to the place, with water, boats, people from all corners of the globe, sea life, wind, and many unknowns, swirling all around. I slipped on the costume I had just made, a blue black silk caftan, lay my stomach to the cobblestones and listened, later, I placed my hands on the tying stone, polished by hundreds of years of bow lines tossed over the top, I closed my eyes and listened. I was surprised when I opened my eyes, to see a man, a photographer, taking a knee before me, also listening, I guess. Later I see in the footage how when he took his hand out of his pocket, he lost something. I am not sure if it was a 50 Euro note, or a receipt for his lunch, but it blew out of his pocket when he tucked his lens cover in there. And the wind blew it right out of the frame as I watched. He took my photo. I'd love to see it someday. I'd love to know what seeing me there listening meant to him. Chances are we'll never meet again, but then ... who knows?