the moment that holds you more beautiful than any
7 minutes 6 seconds
2021


a chasm—
time splintered and the future abruptly fell out of existence, dragging echos of the present with it. vestiges of a life lingered, then too, curled away and dissipated. the sun emerged each morning, sharpening the edges of every thing, painting the world in high definition that caused pain behind the eyes. interal fear mirrored the endless sky, became an imposing saturated blue stretching towards the horizon, swallowing broken shards of reality—an infinite vacuum, greedy and thankless.


in the desert i drifted, untethered, fractured by heat and light. i spent months in vast landscapes quietly looking at wind—how it melted clouds, slipped through trees, throttled the glassy surface of water to look like a blanket pulled taut repeatedly. it got cold and everything died beautifully, then spring came and brought it back to life, then everything died again, as a year passed and i still thought about you. now i stitch together patches of time, attaching past moments to indeterminate futures, creating portals to travel within this conglomerate and i feel less fearful of cruelty. sometimes i look at the moon and i swear it is so big it will consume me. i feel the pull of its gravity and i wonder if you were still here if you would be able to feel it too.



audio components: 
my mother chanting the heart sutra in cantonese, something she does every night before bed at the small altar near the front door.

my mother retelling a story about leaving our family house in colorado, my thoughts in (parenthesis) as responses, setting up a scene in which i talk to myself through her voice.

music & sound design: brendan principato
audio mastering: drew sher



the title “the moment that holds you more beautiful than any” and the words “everything we let go comes back / it is always a surprise” come from a gifted poem by jessica rae elsaesser

project support from the new york city artist corps grant.

Mark