generalities, repetition and that self-defining thing I keep forgetting to tell you

generalities, repetition and that self-defining thing I keep forgetting to tell you

Exhibition in Organhaus, Chongqing, featuring three new works.

When I was a kid I would shoot free-throws in my backyard. I would make bets with myself that if I hit a certain percentage of them something good would come true, and if I missed too many of them, something awful would happen to me. Inevitably I would miss more and more, and I would end up staying outside in the fading light, doubling or tripling my bets, hoping for guaranteed happiness in the future.

Catch the ball. Dribble. Shoot. Catch the ball. Dribble. Shoot.

And there was a moment when I forgot the menace that awaited with each miss, as well as the joy that came with each basket. A moment where the rhythm and grip of the ball on my hand would be the fading sky meeting trees, which were glued to concrete.

I was almost, in that moment, stitched perfectly into the world.

mantras for machines (or the moment I finally may meet myself)

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