I took small details from what I was given, gave them room to grow, and built them out into new messages and homes. I worked my body until I was bone weary, and hoped that somehow my dirty hands and sweat were so real that they would soak into the concrete, and convey without words something essential to the next person in line. I could see all of these pieces moving and being in their own way, but still somehow as if they were pushed one after another by the same invisible wind. At the end of the line, I wondered in earnest if the blazing sun in Adriana Kong's "orange rocks" was the same one that burned my face and arms on the day that I built.
I love that "cement" as a theme is echoed so differently across the issue. That the fixed-ness of cement has been circumvented by the process of translation.
Since I write all my work in a notebook as first drafts, there was a strange second where I recognized the words of my poem but not the handwriting. I loved that moment.
I also love these leisure poses against the backdrop of cement-making sounds. They sound like mechanical echos to me, some sort of unidentifiable thing and maybe a Gundam. B. Wijshijer said it best and I'll agree. There's something to be said here that I can't articulate right now about how the inheritance of "tradition, sensuality, labour, and filth combine to create a monument that questions its anchor." I think immediately "yes!" and also "set sail!" But we'd sink, wouldn't we? The idea of a monument making sacred brutality and nostalgia (the brutality of nostalgia? those lies), the echoes of Ariadne.
Fuck white supremacy. Fuck capitalism. Fuck patriarchy.
Please, I always want to be metamorphosing.
It's fascinating to see how each creator has interpreted the theme and the previous submission. The issue becomes alive as a sort of abstract narration as patterns consciously and unconsciously form (eating, colour schemes). I'm particularly interested in commonalities between Adriana Kong's video and my work in terms of sound, found imagery and composition. The entire issue seems very meditative.
It's amazing how even if the medium fluctuates, the same feelings or thoughts can still be evoked. I loved seeing my poem rendered as a painting—-it made total sense to see my reality reflected in someone else's. I did notice that the theme of "cement" didn't always uphold, but that's ok, because the remnants of the idea were still translated along, sometimes appearing more or less in a person's piece.
It has been incredible to see how certain concepts, such as room, home, freedom, oppression ... were intertwined between the various pieces creating a wonderful discourse around such an apparently aseptic theme.
It was interesting seeing how some elements, such as flowers, fade throughout the issue, but cement remained. It seemed like a strand of ideas slowly vanishing.
When I saw "roses, too" I felt listened to and kind of understood. I loved how a digital message can be felt by another person, mainly in these difficult-isolation-pandemic times. For me it was beautiful to share, read and create ideas in these moments that seem as hard as cement.