shape, architecture

How does one progress in grief? One moves into a state, a definitional ending, and to witness the stillness, one grows still. Once you have stopped moving, how do you ever move again? How does witness to disaster not end in disaster?


The language must remain unstable. Because the state one is describing is not, in fact, absolute, it is (if it is at all possible to use this word with a kind of structural neutrality) a creative space; this is why some artists even work themselves up into a state of simulated despair (unnecessary, since there is plenty already on hand, and more that will come for you). Genocide keeps happening, keeps iterating, in the survivor and the survivor’s generations. The witness must likewise enter it in instability, and apply language that never settles. The violent heart of disaster is a rending instability. A witness is obliged to enter the field of grief as wide open, architecturally/chemically as the traumatic circumstances, but biased towards creation – each rip/rending is an opening, a magical halving that perpetuates bounty (the loaves and fishes found miracle in breaking).

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