"and she’d hear the soft heave of surf on the other side of the dunes, the thud and run, and this was the line of separation, the sound out there in the dark that marked an earthly pulse in the blood."
don delillo. falling man.
"we call it a grain of sand, but it calls itself neither grain nor sand. it does just fine, without a name, whether general, particular, permanent, passing, incorrect, or apt. our glance, our touch means nothing to it. it doesn’t feel itself seen and touched. and that it fell on the windowsill is only our experience, not its. for it, it is not different from falling on anything else with no assurance that it has finished falling or that it is falling still. the window has a wonderful view of a lake, but the view doesn’t view itself. it exists in this world colorless, shapeless, soundless, odorless, and painless. the lake’s floor exists floorlessly, and its shore exists shorelessly. the water feels itself neither wet nor dry and its waves to themselves are neither singular nor plural. they splash deaf to their own noise on pebbles neither large nor small. and all this beneath a sky by nature skyless in which the sun sets without setting at all and hides without hiding behind an unminding cloud. the wind ruffles it, its only reason being that it blows. a second passes. a second second. a third. but they’re three seconds only for us. time has passed like courier with urgent news. but that’s just our simile. the character is inverted, his hasts is make believe, his news inhuman."
wislawa szymborska. view with a grain of sand.
"for many, the familiar presence of things is a comfort. things are valued not only because of their rarity or cost or their historical aura, but because they seem to partake in our lives; they are domesticated, part of our routine and so of us. their long association with us seems to make them custodians of our memories; so that sometimes, as in proust, things reveal us to ourselves in profound and unexpected ways. yet all this does not mean that things reveal themselves, only our investments in them."
peter schwenger. the tears of things.
"to use the spoken word came at a huge price: a fear of crushing censure and a distrust of the meaning of words. silence became a safe place to inhabit."
"there was something critically missing from the things around him. they were unfinished, whatever that means. they were unseen, whatever that means, shop windows, loading platforms, paint-sprayed walls. maybe this is what things look like when there is no one here to see them."
don delillo. falling man.
dull residue [i] (2014)
dull residue [ii] (2014)
dull residue [iii] (2014)
dull residue [iv] (2014)
this tone [ii] (2014)
Video Documentation | Ryan Renshaw Gallery
this tone [i] (2013)