October 6-November 12, 2022
Deli Gallery, New York, NY
Perhaps we never existed at all, but rather the ascent and descent was constant, time never was as numerous as the stars. This place could never not be lawless, man was its governor and its jackal; multiple histories have always been essential. Living alone in my house, surrounded by other people just living in their own house, we’re all living within our minds, trying to distract ourselves from the reality and the boredom of what in actuality is transpiring. Our memories serve as this certification that once we were alive, perhaps we weren’t always Existing with the Moon under our Feet. There is nothing and everything that continues to separate us from the bounds of the perpetual existential downfall. The faces in my dreams seldom speak, but through their presence I can experience how often they move between the planets: to have joy that divides the sadness. We are always falling, we are always flying, perhaps just envisioning descension brings heaven into the room. It’s an easy escape, no need to reckon with understanding or culpability or how to change the trajectory; through destruction paradise is achieved. For history itself implies causality, but histories empirically exist to evade the organization of information, because sometimes fantasy needs to exist to dismantle the terrors that consume every movement.
