In the aftermath of Easter and the death of Pope Francis, this work referencing St John's gospel feels prescient.

The physical core of the work is a tight cluster of stand mounted cymbals of varying heights and angling. Suspended above them is a curved metal guaze through which the meltwater of a piece of ice drips patiently and almost metronomically through.

The title refers to the sorrow Jesus shows at the death of his friend Lazarus and the subsequent resurrection of the latter at the hands of the former. As the water drops down onto the cymbals there is the slightest of resonance. Some of the water remains on the metal some falls to the floor. None of it is absorbed.

There is a sardonic humour to this story of great compassion rendered in cold unfeeling metal - perhaps a comment on the emotional imperviousness an industrial society lends itself to. Like Lazarus, can we too hope for a 'rebirth'?

The 'tears' will eventually exhaust. And then the cymbals will be silent. This evokes the words of the great Greek tragedian Aescyhlus:

... in our sleep pain, which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom ...

This work is part of a larger exhibition called 'Intergrade - Unfinished Migration' hosted at the Indra Gallery in London between 19 April and 25 April 2025.