Artifacts from The Present, Perhaps Time Will Be Understood
I hope that if you, some ethnographer, are tasked to piece this all together, that you might be able to discern what happened here. Time and process has collapsed on these specimens. They have been pulled, cut, dropped, plopped, glazed, hardened, foiled, and made sample from a landscape between reality and fantasy.
I try to get a grasp on place, like how good it feels to know the weight of a rock in your hand. Time has been fizzling differently since March 2020, I can’t get a good sense of the rate. Too many cancellations, launches, and artificialities followed by acceptance, abandonment, and adaptation. Little direction given, no notable beginning or foreseeable end, only evidence and detritus.
Nothing has replaced the Earth
Nothing has transcended Death
Nothing can unearth our buried hopes
Nothing transfigures eternal woe