User:Trashpuppy/Bloody Body of Building: Difference between revisions
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<span style="font-family:courier new, courier, monospace; color:rgb(184,0,0); font-size:100%;"> | <span style="font-family:courier new, courier, monospace; color:rgb(184,0,0); font-size:100%;"> | ||
<span style="font-family:courier new,courier,monospace; color:white; font-size:100%;"> | <span style="font-family:courier new,courier,monospace; color:white; font-size:100%;"> The previous project I worked on, [[User:Trashpuppy/Cobbled_and_Cursed|Cobbled and Cursed]] - an artist book composed of free verse poetry and photography, started from the notion that a work of literature is a piece of architecture. Equally with a heart and spine, corridors that lead into one another and windows opening up onto the outside. The book was closely connected to memory, both artificial and constructed - remembering both with equal clarity. In this way, what I erected between the walls of the cover was a bloody building of body. A map of the dusty attic of a brain. | ||
The previous project I worked on, [[User:Trashpuppy/Cobbled_and_Cursed|Cobbled and Cursed]] - an artist book composed of free verse poetry and photography, started from the notion that a work of literature is a piece of architecture. Equally with a heart and spine, corridors that lead into one another and windows opening up onto the outside. The book was closely connected to memory, both artificial and constructed - remembering both with equal clarity. In this way, what I erected between the walls of the cover was a bloody building of body. A map of the dusty attic of a brain. | |||
So, while perceiving literature as a building, a construct, I also perceive the body as such. Not only in the sense that I perceive architecture as an apt metaphor for our bodies. It goes a bit beyond this. | So, while perceiving literature as a building, a construct, I also perceive the body as such. Not only in the sense that I perceive architecture as an apt metaphor for our bodies. It goes a bit beyond this. | ||
Upon moving to Rotterdam I was overwhelmed by the amount of construction happening around me. The speed at which the urban formula was stamped out of the ground. One day the street was all broken up. The pavement torn open. Opening up onto some | Upon moving to Rotterdam I was overwhelmed by the amount of construction happening around me. The speed at which the urban formula was stamped out of the ground. One day the street was all broken up. The pavement torn open. Opening up onto some | ||
Revision as of 10:52, 11 February 2021
The previous project I worked on, Cobbled and Cursed - an artist book composed of free verse poetry and photography, started from the notion that a work of literature is a piece of architecture. Equally with a heart and spine, corridors that lead into one another and windows opening up onto the outside. The book was closely connected to memory, both artificial and constructed - remembering both with equal clarity. In this way, what I erected between the walls of the cover was a bloody building of body. A map of the dusty attic of a brain.
So, while perceiving literature as a building, a construct, I also perceive the body as such. Not only in the sense that I perceive architecture as an apt metaphor for our bodies. It goes a bit beyond this.
Upon moving to Rotterdam I was overwhelmed by the amount of construction happening around me. The speed at which the urban formula was stamped out of the ground. One day the street was all broken up. The pavement torn open. Opening up onto some