Cities + Guests

A portrait of _______
To be cured(? I can’t read my own handwriting) of a place today feels impossible. That connectedness of ourselves dilutes the uniqueness of the cities that house us. We welcomed the world at our borders with open arms and took everything that came through wholly in our mouths to be chewed and mashed together. What spectacular tastes did we meet. What attempt at escape did we dissolve for now there is only one place, with everyone, with every city corner. You can find everything here except a way out. Perhaps the art we create is the resistance, the portal out of a boxed in world, a way out to the outside of a single city.

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The empty wall feels as though we walked in on the middle of a move. Dust traces the edges of missing frames. No one calls out to the missing pictures or inquires where they disappeared to. The glasses are mix matched. None have a complete set. The guests are the same, mismatched and incomplete.