AT THE CORE OF OUR WORK:
Let this all become a place for looking again.
For misremembering, re-telling, reimagining.
Work against the archive of your own habits.
Let it contradict itself.
Undo it. Soften, settle and
Rework it again and again.
Let it mean something else.
Or nothing.
Lose it.
Crack it open- begin again.
Let it breathe.
Change as you change
Expand, contract
Do not let it ossify.
If it becomes legible too quickly,
misplace a piece. Break it. Obscure it.
Shift the frame.
Ask another question.
Let go. Let it circulate beyond you,
and return.
CREATE AND GET WEIRD WITH US:
P.O. BOX COMING SOON
P.O. BOX COMING SOON
UNFOLDING QUESTIONS AND CARES:
How do you stay open?
What softens you?
Where do gravity and grace meet?
What holds a memory together?
Can we come close to touching memory
(or a dream) through smell, through sound, through texture or ritual?
How can I attune myself to the vibrations of the world and people around me? Can it be learned?
How does one learn it?
Is this less an issue of ethics and more one of, let’s say, meditation?
Does this all require a radical presentness?
When we repeat themes, ways of working - how do we stop the repetitiveness that leads to closedness?
How do we keep the -what if- central?
What does it mean to remember things you do not actually remember?
How do we hold complexity, contradiction, memory, interior life, without trying to resolve it?
What does it mean to let someone be unfinished?
When do expectations become a form of distance? What happens when we loosen our grip on control, outcome, and clarity?
What does accountability mean? How do we feel it, work with it, in our creative practice, in our lives?
Who are we accountable to? What are we accountable to?
What would change if we began from a position of we instead of I?
How does grief and love rearrange the shape of time?
What does it mean to return?
Is return ever a return, or always a different arrival?
Can you hear an image if you stay with it long enough?
What remains? How do we mend, repair?
What does it mean for time to fold instead of move forward?
Where do you see spirit?
How do you stay open?
What softens you?
Where do gravity and grace meet?
What holds a memory together?
Can we come close to touching memory
(or a dream) through smell, through sound, through texture or ritual?
How can I attune myself to the vibrations of the world and people around me? Can it be learned?
How does one learn it?
Is this less an issue of ethics and more one of, let’s say, meditation?
Does this all require a radical presentness?
When we repeat themes, ways of working - how do we stop the repetitiveness that leads to closedness?
How do we keep the -what if- central?
What does it mean to remember things you do not actually remember?
How do we hold complexity, contradiction, memory, interior life, without trying to resolve it?
What does it mean to let someone be unfinished?
When do expectations become a form of distance? What happens when we loosen our grip on control, outcome, and clarity?
What does accountability mean? How do we feel it, work with it, in our creative practice, in our lives?
Who are we accountable to? What are we accountable to?
What would change if we began from a position of we instead of I?
How does grief and love rearrange the shape of time?
What does it mean to return?
Is return ever a return, or always a different arrival?
Can you hear an image if you stay with it long enough?
What remains? How do we mend, repair?
What does it mean for time to fold instead of move forward?
Where do you see spirit?