The Dwelling of a Flower Picked Yesterday
Central Saint Martins, King’s Cross | June 2022
Hand-written with charcoal for Installation.
The Dwelling of a Flower Picked Yesterday is a ghostly sanctuary where intimate fragilities
are disguised as seemingly stable entities. Through the handles of vanished doors, imprints
are made from the now extinct and disasters have a recipe.
Apart, but coming together at the seams, we feverishly dance on the grounds that raised us
human, and hold gently the more-than. Threads intermingle and entire lives sweep into a
single barrel.
‘What we weave is what we have’, like a trauma underpinned, like a life preserved in a box
in a box, like a star of extended space and sensations. Here, microtubules resonate
repeatedly until time is not linear.
It is how metal, flour, paper, and birth control pills are sealed to heal; and when the
boundary between [us and them] is as tender as the vehement sheerness of a curtain.
Colourless, we forget about death, about Nothing, to ascend to where thresholds fall asleep.
So let us dance across the glass in a frequency of continuous reshaping. And until then,
let us feel,
and let us feel at
home for now.
