those things that own you
erica lewis <text>
mark stephen finein <images>

 

 

 

 

 

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decorating doesn't interest me


forgetting gets us into our bodies where the false ceilings and walls are torn out
where it becomes a question of mixing things up of making associations between
colors and objects and pieces to chart a way into the future
to say i can pull this trigger now

 

in our lives a single moment can exist that synthesizes our entire being
you attempt to document this moment that is so minimal a split second
and what is miraculous is if you manage to capture anything at all
who you are before disappearing through the door unrecognized

 

photographing destroys one angle of memory
and reveals this to us as soon as you entered you
were indistinguishable a living installation

and therefore turns on itself intoxicated by its own
labyrinth of soaring rooms and handsome wooden
beams obsessed with beginnings and endings
you grew trees from the cracks in the walls

 

how you are put into the process but with no real context there’s a story in there a conclusion
and how you arrive and can get lost in it the shadow between the cracks becomes the only point of reference if you think of shadows as people
we keep coming forward squinting at what we can no longer see

 

how night becomes day without taking your eyes off of it

you seem to expand in the dark