There are two strands of meaning to the word drift. One is of a slow, and usually deep, accumulation of particles that eventually buries or hides an object. The other is of a gradual, irresistible, and frequently directionless movement. Both carry a sense that something has changed, in the end often drastically, but at such a leisurely, almost imperceptible pace, that the resulting loss or potential menace is not immediately realized. In fact it is often so gradual, or even graceful, that it is even seductively pleasurable. Such, that the final realisation can come as an awakening panic. The works in DRIFT explore the duality of this disquieting reverie, as it plays out over time in the Sahara, between Nature and Humanity.