"BEHOLD. IT IS MOI."

BRANDON SHIMODA WRITES IN:

Execution, which always crosses with fact, requires both muscle and inferior powers. This, to keep the influence simple: gild the damage, plate it across your body towards the first and only revelation: “Behold, it is I.” Eileen Tabios, in her perfectly forged miraculex, has put process in the window, illuminating the corridor that has been threatening darkness once again. Her diagrams stop: are they of love, or lucky traction? Condensation or evaporation? It is in the richly difficult space between these two measurements that Tabios seems to be working: beyond eye and ear, lens and anvil, pole and hammer, to the elegant ball, fixed in its absolute solemnity, tireless. Behold, it is Tabios.