I am interested in the interaction between space and time in regards to matter. In particular, the accumulation of materials and the point in space in which an observer witnesses them. How do things find their placement within a single moment in time? What are the epic stories that prelude something’s current state? A pile of dusty books in a corner. An acorn on the ground. Grassy plains hiding the face of an ancient glacial world that once stood in its place. Rock fragments, hovering in cold forgotten regions of space, that were shattered in star explosions eons before and lightyears away. I am interested in the stories that objects tell within a moments time and further, the eventual rearrangement of such meterials that the future most certainly implies.
Grappling with fate and faith and wondering if “everything will turn out in the end” is just some bullshit I have been fed to keep me going. Then I see a cockroach lying on its back. writhing. Achilles heel. Perhaps this is just how we live. Distracting ourselves from our obvious design flaws with cheap maxims and happily ever after to keep us reaching for the future.