Detail 1: body
What makes up a body?
What sets it into
motion?
What keeps it still?
Currently my body hunches over in obsure position as I lean into the glowing keys of my keyboard.
My body seems to be stuck in a lagging loop of time, exisiting somewhere between still and movement.
One gray, fuzzy pillow sits beside me to my left, slumped in a similar awkward and uncomftorable stance.
The pillow almost appears to sneaking a peak towards my keyboard as I write.
Not in a judgemental way, but a curious one.
My spine yelps.
Screaming in agony and pain, as it settles once more into a j curved shape.
What makes up a body?
What sets it into motion?
What keeps it still?
What is movement?
what is stillness?
Can both occur simulatenously?
As I slightly curl my toes towards me, I think about how the act began with a thought, blurting out into my brain, then sending a message trickling down to the nerves, then to the muscles, the bones and all that lays in between to move forward.
Is this chain reaction of thoughts shifting to actions considered the movement more so than my toes moving back and forth?
I wonder.
Detail 2: Clusters
Stacks of loose, crinkled papers.
Mountains
of books.
Fragments of glittering jewelery and stones.
Piles of pillows, lumped together on the left side of the bed.
Two fluffy.
One sleek.
One worn.
Bags of dirty laundry, stuffed in the corners to hide.
Paper bags, package boxes, gift bags from the holidays mashed underneath the desk.
Clusters of things everywhere. What a mess!
Old and new candles, sitting shoulder to shoulder.
Paintings, collages, drawings and more are meshed together on the purple, bed room walls.
Dust wads hanging off the fan and from the glass shards on paintings of bathtub scenes.
four portfolios, kissing against the wall behind the door.
An old dial phone, two ceramic pillars, and a red, flower shaped glass bowl sit in a nook.
Skeletons in meditative states of thoughts, birthday cards, and a heart shaped dish populate the nook diagnol from the one with the pillars, bowl, and phone.
A bundle of shoes are scattered and mashed both at once next to the tv stand.
More empty boxes nest together.
Evidence of over spending and using objects to fill the void.
Clusters upon clusters, upon clusters.
Detail 3: Waves
Stormy seas seem to have taken hold of my room.
Wobbly and unpredictable waves of worn clothing, pillows, art supplies, candles, jewels, cigarette packs and more have come crashing over the space.
I take cover on the
bed.
The only floating life preserver avalaible in these violent and uncertain waves.
I am gasping for air. suffocating in the chaotic mess of debrew that it all leaves behind.
A destructive force, the waves can be.
But how I love when they are calm and soft, like snowflakes on the tongue.
When the clothes are folded, tucked away.
When the half drank wine glasses, empty cigarette packs and other trash are thrown away.
The way the carpet looks after a machine has combed over it, leaving traces of its prescenes through the patterning of the fibers in the rug.
Oh how I love and crave for the waves to be calm.
But as I stated before, they can be quite unpredictable in their fierce and powerful nature.
The way they transform a space, obliterating all the was and making the environment something entirely, new and orginal.
I love the way treasures become washed up on the carpet, emerging from the piles.
Reminds me of the way one seeks out shells and assigns value to each one.
Reminds me of the process of choosing which shells to tuck into your pockets and which ones to leave behind for the seas to gobble up.
I must admit that although I thoroughly enjoy the stillness and serenity that the calm waves bring me, there is something about the forcefulness of discovery and contemplation that I love about the chaotic and unpredictable stormy seas and crashing waves.
Waves.
Waves.
Waves.
You come and go, but the nature of your prescene is never known and there is something magical about that.