In The Dark We Do Not Belong to Ourselves or to Anyone Else
The Artch Gallery, London
We turn to the dark temporarily, whose powers suck our image out, leaving it awaiting and aching for new ones.
Alike the silence in a reading room and the darkness of a cinema theatre, where one is situated with others, the ‘dark’ shields you with a layer of unawareness of both yourself and those around you. Embodying the concrete qualities of those settings, it exists within us, suspending us in each space we conquer. For the ‘dark’ is not only a setting, but a corresponding sensitivity with the dark within; remains from the void of the stage of life before this, where space was pure.
All we do in this stage of life is merely translating: our own image back and forth with the memory of our own images from the past. Borders between dark and light streches out like a canvas, until we do not know where we belong. We only belong (to something) through a mode of measurement, provided by light in this world, and thus to remove that sense of attachment, light must also be removed from ourselves.
- The words they send me to sleep, tuck me in. I wish you did.
- You leave me no trace.
How does one begin to measure the worth of one’s own in sacrifices of others? One translates, adjusts and tries to catch a glimpse of one’s own image in one another, desperately tying a knot of correspondence. A secret commitment manifests itself in three parts: one first successful match: the building up of an expectation and subsequently an unavoidable disappointment. The function of making oneself available contradictory lies within telling lies, and ceases when one starts telling the truth.