M100 Letter, 2022
I walk into a room on July 1st 2022,
this room.
I am here, string theory embodied, agitated by the expansion of my senses, catastrophic entropy belated. Pause (it is what the period asks for, not a stop, but the space to listen); breath, too, precipitates movement. However subtle.
I could even feel the buzzing wings of a summer fly.
And how about the air which passes through us, is warmed in my insides, expelled and miscigenated into the gradient of matter in this room? Disperse air into dense, thick, solid wall, pliable bodies, all of us; stroked by wind coming in – the same current that, in making its way, caressed wild grass in China and took part in all manner of complex adventures.
Back to here.
I pour, in and out, that merging of senses into moment; to be and inhabit, learn to touch the subtle and small, to graze the contours and rumble of what is present; skin electrified, hairs standing on attention, expanding, curious whiskers, roots and tentacles that ask: what is here?
Because I is a here-now.
Roots not of sunken pride, but floating, as the orchid’s. Thirsty for the otherness of others. When I find you (a person, maybe? you: what I notice is present, also I; another I, its own I, you) my sensing apparatus arouses, structures re-organize, the meeting-touch-melting-point sparks exuberance: a relation! Insurmountable.
As delicate lines twist and tangle, end and beginning lost into the matter of being, I am a path together in specific and unspecial configuration.
Mysteriously, we must be here. Together with the ghosts and the dust, entities psychological or otherwise. To hold the bare & the brief & the slight that destroys all assumptions.
I, a centenary building with fresh damp roots, I, jellyfish swimming in the Atlantic, I, a reactive nervous system and my allergens, I, an installation that captures movement in space, I, a visitor in an independent art space, I, a vector of forces and movements indetectable, I, a body pulsating.
The whispers of life are decoded for whom is willing to listen.
To their mesh and inclinations, I long.
M. Dubia
M100, Odense