stimulating profound conversations about living and dying well
My past self reminds me to appreciate the details
I recently rediscovered this piece from 2012 - an assignment to free-write during two minutes in a "silent space." At that time I was studying at Emily Carr University of Art and Design.
I am sitting in my downtown apartment, where the fridge periodically hums and the traffic is perpetual. I guess there's always a good reason to travel at any point in the day or night. It occurs to me that somewhere in the world, at any given time, someone is dancing. That way to use space – that image – contrasts sharply to the cluttered interior I currently inhabit; the marble floors, mocha walls (too dark for such a small space) and black cabinets so desperately evoke a bachelor aspiration toward a house that looks like this, but bigger. My work table resists this cliche and constructs another, strewn with several tubes of paint, sticks of conte, an aerosol can of foam insulation, work gloves, white nylon rope, duct tape, tape measure, notebook, looseleaf chaos, a tube of red lipstick, rose quartz japa mala, my laptop... I approached these two minutes of silence with the goal of detail-awareness; the sky is clear today and the setting sun is reflected into my eyes by the condo building across from my seventh floor bay windows. Hovering above ground I am surrounded by walls of glass. I wait for them to break but they never do. Silence is never absolute and is defined only by what fills it; the presence of the listening observer's auditory apparatus reflects every shift in the air. I close my eyes and listen to my breath.
Persephone Passages and Sacred Embodiment Founder Juniper Quin riffs on birth, death, and everything in between. She lives in North Vancouver, BC in the traditional and unceded territory of the Coast Salish nations with her husband, father-in-law, and an ever-expanding family of mostly edible houseplants.