A brief history of art collections throughout the ages, and a reflection on the lives of historical and cultural objects.
There is an undeniable pull to objects of our past—after history has given them significance, after they’ve gained the patina of nostalgia. How does this connection form? Can the qualities that give an object beauty and appreciation simply not exist until after time does its work?
Living things experience a constant flow of movement through space and time. Is it possible to remain still, even for a moment?
This past weekend, I visited one edge of the world. It wasn’t really that far of a journey. I’ve always lived near it and now live closer to it than I’ve ever been. I can actually see it from my bedroom window on the clear days. But I decided I wanted to know it better. So I packed a few things, hopped on a train, and went exploring along the edge of the world.
Telephone poles and wires are relics of the recent past, tilted and neglected like figures trying to stay out of the way of the stream of modern, wireless communication. However, they are also a persevering reminder of the physical, tangible connection between two people engaged in conversation.
The marks of time surround us. A line on paper, a texture on wood, a trace of dust on the surface, a scattering of dirt on the road. What stories and wisdom do they have to tell us?
Reflections on the possibilities of an unoccupied room, and why we feel the urge to determine what happened when we were out.