in the dark. He really felt like a globe revolving within a globe.Even the most singular or indivisible particle or heavenly sphere will adjust
when the axis extending beyond itself is pushed, or the sphere it is within
is pushed. What she thought was her balance flattens into a stylized dragon
on the marble paving stones.
Yet she's reluctant to leave the compound. Only the emperor
could walk its center line. Now, anyone can imagine how it felt
to bring heaven news. She is trying to remember this in Hong Kong
as the tram pulls suddenly above skyscrapers and the harbor
and she flattens against her seat, like a reversal occurring in the poles,
or what she meant by, no one can imagine how.
Chinese Space
First there is the gate from the street, then some flowers inside the wall,
then the inner, roofed gate. It is a very plain wall, without expressionistic means,
such as contrasting light on paving stones inside the courtyard to the calligraphed foundation stones.
My grandfather called this the facade or Baroque experience, rendering a courtyard transparent.
The eye expecting to confront static space experiences a lavish range of optical events,
such as crickets in Ming jars, their syncopation like the right, then left, then right progress
into the house, an experience that cannot be sustained in consciousness, because
your movement itself binds passing time, more than entering directs it.
A red door lies on a golden mirror with the fascinating solidity and peacefulness of the pond
in the courtyard, a featureless space of infinite depth where neither unwanted spirits nor light
could enter directly from outside. It lies within the equally whole space of the yard
the way we surrounded our individuals, surrounded by a house we could not wholly
retain in memory. Walking from the inner gate across a bridge which crossed four ways
over the carp moat, turning right before the ice rink, we pass roses imported from Boston,
and enter the main courtyard, an open structure like a ruin. This is not remembering,
but thinking its presence around eccentric details such as a blue and white urn turned up to dry,
although certain brightnesses contain space, the way white slipcovered chairs with blue seams contain it.
The potential of becoming great of the space is proportional to its distance away from us,
a negative perspective, the way the far corner of the pond becomes a corner again as we approach
on the diagonal, which had been a vanishing point. The grandmother poses beside rose bushes.
That is to say, a weary, perplexing quality of the rough wall behind her gives a power of tolerance
beyond the margins of the photograph. Space without expansion, compactness without restriction
make peculiar and intense account of the separable person from her place in time,
though many families live in the partitioned house now. The reflecting surface of the pond
should theoretically manifest too many beings to claim her particular status in the space,
such as a tiger skin in space.
After the house was electrically wired in the thirties, he installed a ticker-tape machine connected
to the American Stock Exchange. Any existence occupies time, he would say in the Chinese version,
reading stock quotations and meaning the simplicity of the courtyard into a lavish biosphere,
elevating the fact of its placement to one of our occupation of it, including the macaw speaking Chinese,
stones representing infinity in the garden. This is how the world appears when the person
becomes sufficient, i.e., like home, an alternation of fatigue and relief in the flexible shade of date trees,
making the house part of a channel in space, which had been interior, with mundane fixtures4 as on elevator doors in a hotel, a standing ashtray that is black and white.
The family poses in front of the hotel, both self-knowing and knowing others at the same time.
This is so, because human memory as a part of unfinished nature is provided
for the experience of your unfinished existence.
Texas
I used the table as a reference and just did things from there
in register, to play a form of feeling out to the end, which is
an air of truth living objects and persons you use take on,
when you set them together in a certain order, conferring privilege
on the individual, who will tend to dissolve if his visual presence
is maintained, into a sensation of meaning, going off by itself.
First the table is the table. In blue light or in electric light, it has no pathos. Then light separates from the human content, a violet-colored net or immaterial haze, echoing the violet ice plant on the windowsill, where he is the trace of a desire.
Such emotions are interruptions in landscape and in logic
brought on by a longing for direct experience, as if her memory of experience
were the trace of herself. Especially now, when things have been flying apart in all directions,
she will consider the hotel lobby the inert state of a form. It is the location
of her appointment. And gray enamel elevator doors are the relational state,
space behind them being a ground of water or the figure of water. Now,
she turns her camera on them to change her thinking about them into a thought
in Mexico, as the horizon when you are moving can oppose the horizon inside
the elevator via a blue Cadillac into a long tracking shot. You linger
over your hand at the table. The light becomes a gold wing on the table. She sees
it
