Wednesday, 12 September 2007


A scene of excess: the same room, stretched beyond its lifespan, yet neither expired nor vanished. The same room—a worldscape—manifest as a remnant from the zone of daytime. Further still, the ruins of sunlight: enclosed in the flesh of the walls. It is true: by its porous receptivity, the room remembers. Otherwise, it would not have the ability to reflect the glance, there establishing a dialogue between time and place. The same room. The room that, in its silence, recedes into the background, absorbing the fallout from the world beyond.

Merleau-Ponty: “Now, if the world is atomized or dislocated, this is because one’s body has ceased to be a knowing body, and has ceased to draw together all objects in its one grip; and this debasement of the body into an organism must itself be attributed to the collapse of time, which no longer rises towards a future but falls back on itself” (p. 329). To crawl, here, through place, amid a scene of departing and returning. The room remains, has remained. To crawl through place, as that same place detaches itself from light, in the process generating an outline of what was there in the day, but only now charged with a sense of ending.