When I think of the materials I usually live with - white paper, plastic on electronics, faux wood flooring.. I realize now that I never pay attention to any of these. They are reduced so as to avoid giving any indication of themselves. The blurred out frames that I pass through. I think this unconsciously makes people tired; always looking past the place and substance they are currently in.
But now there is a Jurassic-sized dissected maple tree hanging in front of me. Evidence of growth, possession (by termites), deterioration, quiet grandeur in old age: like the phases of a human life. On one side are knobby, pointed growths. Traces of blue and white chalk from the mill. I would like to know how old the tree is, give it a birthday.
(I would like to know how old my faux wooden floor is, now, too. Imagine knowing that information about all the nameless matter you used in a day...).
I'm looking forward to living with this piece for while.
--CM
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