(found it, here are some snippets)
The Dividing Line, 2007

When I think of a line on a page, or canvas, I imagine a miniature version of myself struggling to take hold of the line with my hands. It becomes a rope, or unwieldy tentacle, of which I must wrestle off of its grounding surface. I seize it with effort and tear it from the page, pulling it up as we would rip off embedded wires, the paint encrusted nails pinging dramatically and flying off to scatter into dark corners. In my hands it is rounded and slippery with a certain life force of its own. It flexes on its own accord and takes all my might to keep it under control.

Once I have released it from the surface it becomes a journey for me to undertake. I travel the length of the cord with my hands doing the walking. The line moves between my hands like a tug of war team might hope for, the slack - the distance travelled - discarded behind, fallen and forgotten, tamed but coiled, twitching. I pull, and is it me that moves forward or the line that pushes towards me? I don’t know. There are feet, but perhaps in this imagined world they are many and don’t only stand on a base but push out in all directions to define the whole sphere of spatial extent. The journey travelled, always seen linear – A to B. This terrible three dimensional snake whips up around me carving its way through a thought space, a nowhere place.
...

Sometimes I am allowed to come back down to earth and two feet plant themselves, imaginatively, on a bank on the side of a ravine. This line has morphed into a chasm of depth, with a bottomless view, for me to look fearfully over. I am so small, and it has roared open, a hairline crack grown catastrophic. The wind blows and threatens to take me over the edge. This line is no less scary, but I am no longer wielding it; I now grip the turf and feel condors soar over currents, their beady eyes watching me on my level, indifferent to the fathoms below.

...


It should go next to one of my drawings really.