Time Portraitures


A pair of slow clocks—one that stops keeping time when looked at, another submerged in gooey oil. Each loses momentum the more it labors. Dormant at first, their pulse can only be discerned if you give it time and listen closely.

Drawing upon Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ elegy to queer mourning in Untitled (Perfect Lovers) (1991), I’d been thinking of “broken” timepieces as an expression of grief—one where time is an account of life, and all loss is political. How do we even begin to contend with the matrices of loss under capitalism? To carry its weight in our bodies, the traumas it yields; and also to witness loss in another, to become passive to it, subsumed by it. Can we find respair in slowness and intimacy?

Exhibited at the School for Poetic Computation in December 2019Featured in Creative Applications, 2020.

 





Mark