UNFOLDING
UNFOLDING, 2017, detail
“‘Field’ originates in the word ‘fold’. We are held in folds of earth, twilight, and dawn. Our bodies are full of folds, our brain, our lips, our eyes, the creases and overlaps are there, even if we don’t see them. These folds that time successively unwraps, a gift of revelation”.
-Sarah Robinson, Nesting: body, dwelling, mind
In the lost art of the letter, we lose the embodied gesture of unfolding something slowly. To stare and search, to wonder and wander across the fields either in maps or letters. To behold for a moment content that cannot be swiped away. The patience of waiting for a letter to arrive. The sharing of wisdom and presence germinating in the time and space where the possibility of connection is drawn apart and pulled together without immediacy. Perhaps it is nostalgia or metaphor or longing, but I want to hold and unfold and fold something. And then release it. As the poet John O’ Donuhue states, “I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.” Or like the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, “I want to unfold. I don’t want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie.” Unfolding is an invitation to reflect on what is slowly being revealed in the folds of your life.
In the interactive installation, you are invited to step into the space for an intimate look, and to sit at the ironing-board-transformed-desk, opening the envelopes placed inside a wooden box. Inside the envelopes, poems/quotes/images are intended to provoke further examination of the connections between the ordinary and sublime objects and gestures presented within the installation, as well as, for the viewers to embody the metaphor of folding and unfolding and the relational poetics examined in this piece.
-Sarah Robinson, Nesting: body, dwelling, mind
In the lost art of the letter, we lose the embodied gesture of unfolding something slowly. To stare and search, to wonder and wander across the fields either in maps or letters. To behold for a moment content that cannot be swiped away. The patience of waiting for a letter to arrive. The sharing of wisdom and presence germinating in the time and space where the possibility of connection is drawn apart and pulled together without immediacy. Perhaps it is nostalgia or metaphor or longing, but I want to hold and unfold and fold something. And then release it. As the poet John O’ Donuhue states, “I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.” Or like the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, “I want to unfold. I don’t want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie.” Unfolding is an invitation to reflect on what is slowly being revealed in the folds of your life.
In the interactive installation, you are invited to step into the space for an intimate look, and to sit at the ironing-board-transformed-desk, opening the envelopes placed inside a wooden box. Inside the envelopes, poems/quotes/images are intended to provoke further examination of the connections between the ordinary and sublime objects and gestures presented within the installation, as well as, for the viewers to embody the metaphor of folding and unfolding and the relational poetics examined in this piece.
