I’m seeking a language of intimacy.

              As I recognize a hint of winter in the wind. Like a body in the dark, full of warmth, breathing, a pulse.


And I write in space and material,

               for it is in relation to people that intimacy occurs.

Finding (words) that listen just as much as they speak, or more.

              Perhaps I seek words that only listen,

                              that respond, in the way a response should be.

                                              The way a sound’s timbre changes over the seasons.


Fixed meanings feel like a foreign body in my hands.

              (Hands that are coarse from work, hands that are made of muscles, ligaments, bones.)

They rather feel how material can change.


              Some spaces are like magnetic poles, vibrating, between materials, between relations.

In reality this is conspicuously specific – a sound that fits in my hand, a cord between two chairs.


I would have liked to invite you inside these gaps, we could have spoken together about silence, vibration,

implementation and mass. Silently.


              Isn’t it so that space and time are built from gaps, the way sound relates to silence?


Those of us who are here, listen, our backs to each other, experiencing the situation, together, individually, given our various backgrounds.


              let’s talk about sound waves

                              like bodies in the air


                              sender and receiver

              they become a corporeal memory

                              I want to rest my forehead against this.


It is in the air surrounding the objects that space unfolds itself. In the time between the actions that the decisions are made.


And in between,

                                        – before the stories, before the narrative, before the words talk more than they listen


space is potent, time is potent, material is potent,

in relation to people.





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September 7, 2017

October 7, 2014

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