Sarah Walko
Text
(flight compartment)
| How is it that animate beings can come from inanimate matter? What is a self and how can a self come out of stuff that is as selfless as a stone or a puddle? (-Hofstadter) |
If this work fails to take a straight course, it is because it lives in a strange region. There is no map. No table of contents. It walks and works until it is worn away. Similar to a book, a reader and an author are having a conversation which expands and/or collapses time, regardless of the surrounding space. These tiny worlds and words fluctuate between micro and macro and simply say, You are no where else right now but here and this is the invention of questions.
"Memory, like the mind and time, is unimaginable without physical dimensions. To imagine it as a physical place is to make it into a landscape in which its contents are located, and what has location can be approached. If memory is imagined as a place - a theatre, a library - then the act of remembering is imagined as a physical act; as walking. To walk the same route again can mean to think the same thoughts again, as though thoughts and ideas were fixed objects in a landscape and one need only know how to travel through. Walking is reading, even when both are imaginary and the landscape of memory becomes a text as stable as a garden, a labyrinth, or stations." (-Rebecca Solnit)
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