
To look at something which is “empty” is still to be looking, still to be seeing something—if only the ghosts of one’s own expectations.
Susan Sontag, Styles of Radical Will (1969).
…horizon is silence, and the faculty of attention.
You've got to dig to dig it, you dig?
To look at something which is “empty” is still to be looking, still to be seeing something—if only the ghosts of one’s own expectations.
Susan Sontag, Styles of Radical Will (1969).
…horizon is silence, and the faculty of attention.
If the spider is an ode to mother, the spun web must be to a “deliberate, clever, patient, soothing, reasonable, dainty, subtle, indispensable, neat, and [..] useful” place.
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From Aperture Magazine #238, Spring 2020, titled House & Home.
Emmanuel Iduma in conversation with David Adjaye. The many faces of “home” in Japanese photography by Lena Fritsch.
Here. We Are, here. Here, we are at a place for blck Longevity. Here, we will be.
All summer connotations fill this light,
Jay Wright, “Light’s Interrupted Amplitude” from The Guide Signs. Copyright © 2007 by Jay Wright.
a symmetry of different scales—the site
of fibrous silence, the velvet lace
of iris, alders the moon can ignite.
One feels the amplitude of grief, the pace
of oscillating stars, power in place
where time has crossed and left a breathy stain.
A body needs the weight and thrust of grace.
I want to parse the logic, spin and domain,
the structure mourning will allow, the grain
of certainty in two estates, the dance
of perfect order, flowing toward its plane.
That bird you see has caught a proper stance,
unfaithful to its measure, a pert mischance
of divination on the move, the trace
of sacred darkness true to light’s advance.
poem via PF – Black Arts Movement.