Bock treats sculpture as a weather system. Her materials—clay, stone, metal—do not merely “sit” in space; they metabolize it. Moisture, heat, oxidation, gravity, and time are not external conditions but active agents that write the work from within. The result is a practice that refuses the fantasy of permanence so often attached to sculpture. Instead of the monument, she gives us the porous object: a form that remembers through stains, cracks, and slow discolorations. In Bock’s hands, hydration becomes a political and poetic principle. To be hydrated is to be permeable—to accept exchange, contamination, dependency. This quietly undermines the modern desire for sealed, autonomous objects. Her installations often feel like internal climates inserted into the gallery: a floor that holds dampness, a window that regulates light, an arrangement that makes the room behave like an ecosystem. The work asks you to perceive matter as ongoing negotiation, not stable fact. What’s critical here is that Bock’s “slowness” is not romantic pastoralism; it is a method for re-sensitizing perception. In an era of frictionless images and accelerated consumption, she insists on processes that cannot be scrolled. Her sculpture becomes a record of coexistence—human and nonhuman—where time is the true medium and change is the only honest finish.
