The move toward intimacy for a bowerbird begins with the laborious weaving from grass and twigs of the perfect arch, which must be constantly rebuilt, renewed, as rivals thwart the bird’s intention. The bird leaves and returns, collecting and sculpting, while the bower absorbs the impression of its beak, its feathers, its will.
‘Burning Beds’ is a comment on climate change and what it is doing to our own personal ‘bower’: our home, our earth.