Lived place and time focus Leclair's
diarizing gesture; his forms winkingly may honor certain conventions yet insist on freedom; the "things" and moments around and within us -- a fly rubbing its legs together, birds, skyscapes, country events, a stroll along the seafront, a flood scene, the local cafe, walking or biking home in the drizzle with a just-purchased bottle of brandy -- are observed in their infinite specificity, their irreplaceableness, yet are absorbed, via their very fleetingness, their strangely felt "nothingness" or immateriality, into that equally infinite plasticity or malleability that language reminds us is at their center.