not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

a beat in time


the whole house beats
like a metronome
throughout history

5 comments:

  1. it's a painting in disguise...

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  2. Fantastic photo!
    Great composition, colours...
    The little trees in the opening...
    And, do you see the two little doll- like ghost too?
    They seem to be sitting there, looking outside, a bit afraid.
    Faces next to eachother, like for whispering.
    Like a drawing from a spooky childrens book.
    Maybe I have too much imagination... :-)))
    Cool photo Erin! XXX

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  3. "Of course, thanks to the house, a great many of our memories are housed, and if the house is a bit elaborate, if it has a cellar and a garret, nooks and corridors, our memories have refuges that are all the more clearly delineated. All our lives we come back to them in our daydreams. A psychoanalyst should, therefore, turn his attention to this simple localization of our memories. I should like to give the name of topoanalysis to this auxiliary of pyschoanalysis. Topoanalysis, then would be the systematic psychological study of the sites of our intimate lives."

    Gaston Bachelard, who write so beautifully about house and daydreaming and memory... somehow your journey into the intimate geography of your self, your life, which unfolds through so many of your posts, reminded me of his Poetics of Space...
    and it is beautiful and enriching to follow these old and hazy paths with you...

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  4. thank you, csj.

    aimee, everything is, isn't it? chicken and egg, art and life.

    nadja, for me it's underwater and slow. it's startling how we always bring our own personal mythologies to each piece, to each interpretation. it's wonderful really, everything eternally reborn.

    roxana, it stills me that you are in this world. thank you for what you have brought here. and now i have the gift of finding you.

    xo
    erin

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"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))