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People always say that about art, or any form of keeping time… That they could do it– but of course they could do it, the thing is, whether they do it or not.
If I took a picture of the same tree everyday… it would be about the taking of the picture, the process and the ritual, a way of marking the day and layering time…
All we can do is wonder over the imaginary solitude of others… how they deal with the vastness and ephemerality of the day, which I think is for me increasingly the meaning of and crisis of art.
–Kate Zambreno
There is a part of everything that remains unexplored, for we have fallen into the habit of remembering, whenever we use our eyes, what people before us have thought of the thing we are looking at. Even the slightest thing contains a little that is unknown. We must find it. To describe a blazing fire or a tree in a plain, we must remain before that fire or that tree until they no longer resemble for us any other tree or any other fire.
–Gustave Flaubert
“I am conscious of being only an individual struggling weakly against the stream of time.” –Ludwig Boltzmann, Lectures on Gas Theory, 1898
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Existentialism: a philosophy that emphasizes the uniqueness and isolation of the individual in a hostile or indifferent universe. –American Heritage Dictionary, 3rd Ed.
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“How shall I describe it– this feeling that there was a Spirit of Cold about on every hand, eager to destroy? One could feel it tapping, tapping, for weak places in one’s covering and in one’s vitality.” –Emerson Hough, on spending the night in a snow shelter in Hayden Valley, March 22, 1894
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“You have a picture of life within you, a faith, a challenge, and you were ready for deeds and sufferings and sacrifices, and then you became aware by degrees that the world asked no deeds and sacrifices of you whatever, and that life is no poem of heroism with heroic parts to play and so on, but a comfortable room where people are quite content with eating and drinking, coffee and knitting, cards and wireless. And whoever wants more and has got it in him– the heroic and the beautiful, and the reverence for the great poets or for the saints– is a fool and a Don Quixote. Good. And it has been just the same for me, my friend.”
–Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf
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