About
Piranesi, Giovanni Battista. The Gothic Arch, plate XIV, from the series Carceri d’invenzione. 1749–60, etching and engraving. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco.
"I became possessed with the keenest curiosity about the whirl itself. I positively felt a wish to explore its depths, even at the sacrifice I was going to make; and my principal grief was that I should never be able to tell my old companions on shore about the mysteries I should see."
― Edgar Allan Poe, A Descent into the Maelstrom
What do you see, hear, feel, and think in the moments before you drift to sleep; when you startle awake to the feeling of falling, of colliding with the ground you did not know was so far from your teetering body?
Short stories, poems, visual art, and scholarly articles on horror, surrealism, grief, existentialism, the self, the other, the body, the mind, fear, etc.
What parts of you, parts of life, do you hate, love, want to amputate, to study, to burn, to miss and grieve? I want those pieces of you.
I want to freeze you in place until all of your ideas can be extracted and loved.
God, it would take centuries, wouldn’t it?
To siphon the good and the bad, to revel in them the way they deserve, the way you deserve.
That would take too long.
So send me a fraction, minuscule gradients, ideas long and short but never long or short enough to emphasize—life, the self, the external, the internal, space, Earth, thought, action, conscious, unconscious—importance or lack thereof.
I want a fraction of you to be a fraction of me.
Your bones and my bones made into a wind chime.