Description
A journey is an enquiry; what do you see, in discovering an unfamiliar place? A slow unscrolling of fragmentary impressions, and also a framed view of your own cargo of imagery. Monuments: names and dates scratched into painted plater, a trace of fingers in the clay of brick, hand-formed water conduits, carved leaves of stone growing from this year’s floweringg weeds. Bottles of oil and wine in a soot-darkened niche, a nest of spent candles. A forest of human limbs, fashioned in wax, grows downwards from the roof of a cave. (Out of reach, they request a laying-on of hands). Strips of torn clothing tied all over a tree: each in an intimately personal wish, born perhaps of anxiety, and seeking the comfort od traditions whose origins are lost. The intense focus on locality – a fact of island life. At such close quarters, to preserve is to embalm. The visitor is aware of spectating. The nature of your gaze must be examined at every turn. At some times, you may no longer recognise yourself. As observation turns into activity, the edges are blurred but the scrutiny sharpens. The distance of a telescopic view can also be turned the other way. There is a shock in seeing what was only sensed. The buds of roses may refer to other budding lives, when examined through a microscope – an eye which sees those parts of yourself which cannot, and may return to your gaze. Images, and tiny organisms, can be developed in little dishes, a laboratory in the heart, mercifully subject to change. – Sibylle von Halem
