all the moments have long since passed
sand that is as old as the earth
water heals
love light in the night
the sun shines
heads on our shoulders
moments pass freely
holding hands
our hearts in our fingers
touching without moving
escape structures
reduce our concrete walls into fields of colour
my heart is made from olive
one thing can’t be compressed without another expanding
factories in fog
but the most beautiful sunrise i have ever seen
stillness of trees
everything is equal
there is no sequence that describes how any one moment or idea might be placed in relation to all
order of transforms is not important because all moments are equally important
as if from nothing
lines form patterns
unhide curves and fissures
hope and loss
everyday leaves an imprint
doll was going to be alchemy
but something got lost
and so she was abandoned again
nerve is never resolved
fragments, residues
beauty and horror
i need to rescue her, she is burning
(but she does not feel pain, she is just a plastic doll)
the work of a few very brave people who lived many hundreds of years ago needs to be kept alive
it is in our hearts
maybe in our wildest moments
we share more than atoms with the lonely alchemists of long ago
glass vessels
structures that describe what it feels like
i’m sure the answers lie in doll
but she cannot speak
pond life
dots become lines
lines become forms
if there is any truth to be found, it starts here
tiny things becoming alive
when we lie awake in the middle of the night
not remembering the previous day or wishing for tomorrow
yet we still cannot enjoy the present moment
(we wish to be anywhere else)
why is this?
why do we drive ourselves to distraction & destruction?
photos will be used to create a second layer of truth about moments
which i will then confuse with a more fundamental truth
because in the process of constantly reducing and returning
forms unhide themselves
and the hope of seeing them almost creates peace
none of these moments existed in the way you see them now
they are not what i saw or was feeling
(strangely, in the brief act of taking a photograph it often seems that thoughts are also suspended)
when the light was fixed in 1s and 0s
the moments became unreal
a separation occurred
a rift opened, that can never be healed
what exactly is being represented here?
radiation is about absorption and release
where there is life there is also an afterglow
an urgency, a will to deny shadows
but we know there is really no escape
love is for family, sons and daughters
and all the sons and daughters that are born of them
with the weights of their parents upon their memories
in an endless chain that links long forgotten moments
like woollen strings, constantly unravelling
multiplying, cascading, all going their own ways
and the night
so quiet and peaceful
I’m awake most of it
and when you wake up at sunrise
it’s like it’s all been a dream
and I just want to fall asleep
lonely but something deeper in the soul
exactly this, heart questions
and the feeling of loss in emptiness rather than peace
the feeling of draining away
that even love can’t soothe
(when we doubt)
always, always, always
we’re in a dream
when I lifted my head slightly off the pillow, neck straining, the whirring sound stopped. After many nights of doing this, as if checking whether the sound existed in its own right, outside my head, was a first step towards finding its source. I had no idea what I’d do once I’d identified the source, I was convinced it originated outside my room, but how far? (many years later, i realised it was just the sound of my watch ticking, when it was placed on the floor by my bed. I had so many sleepless nights, all because of listening to time ticking away)
a dream:
in her apartment a woman
she is someone I know, but it is unclear who she is (I don’t recognise her from real life)
she shows me a book made of wax and plaster 3″ x 2″
(there is a larger book on the wall but she wouldn’t lend me that, it was special and couldn’t be lent out)
there are shapes and figures in the books
all white with form only because of relief and shadows
i hold the book and look at it, I can see it very clearly
as you might see a mist clearly
and the dream ends and I realise that the book is something I have to make
a glass paperweight
which was an embryonic fluid and gaseous structure
and so here it is on my shelf, frozen at birth
when all the physical forces reached a moment of clarity