an experimentation of unlearning and requestioning of nostalgia and acceptance.

There was the house with the water not far from it. The tides were high and low nearly at the same time. The lines in the sand remembered and kept track of the days. The air tasted of salt. The house filled its rooms with the loud noises of the waves. The small creaks couldn’t be heard. All the rooms changed once you left. They disappeared. Moving from one room to the next, the last ceased to exist. Was it known that they would leave? Was it known the house would change? Turning from boiling to ice to air then back into the fabric the dye swept up all the moments the water held. The water held a memory. The fabric tears and is stitched back up again. If the sand knew things would pass then why couldn’t I? After looking at these for so long I didn’t even learn a thing until it was me drawing back. Going back in time to the last room I was in. The last age I remembered. It doesn’t exist. There are new lines now, new bodies, new houses. It is here, it was then, it will be, all at once.

acid dyes, salt, polyester fabric, cotton fabric, grommets, bungee cords, tarp

photos courtesy of mel taing