those things that own you
erica lewis <text>
mark stephen finein <images>





lrl3 home



i am warm

life is not boulders and snow and perfume
life is difficult and sad and ephemeral life is flesh not stone it is flinty cold hard and true
you might throw away those old structures but if you do not replace them with a new one
this freedom will explode in your face


you can capture life but you can’t control it
it condenses into a mask

but this was once about age and death and longing
the sudden impulse for another person

myth was important to us then
you knew what the picture was about and what it meant to say


when i transfer the image all of the information falls away in bodies in colors in photographs
in houses to address each rupture with perception each bit of dirt with meaning
you’ve got to hold it in your hands


to go through the inventory of what has been lost we are caught in the middle of something
that is not ours it’s like how the eskimos have all these different names for snow
do you remember when you used to glide around the room


memory loss for example eliminates most of the repetitive markings to live in a box of safes
to migrate between wall and floor as if to examine the constituent elements and indicate
the directions in which they might move
the waves of marks ebb and flow like consciousness itself and are extremely satisfying to look at it is hard not to think that they should go wherever they point


it could also be the other way around

to say that i have a memory of things that happened in the future

there were things i wanted to say