Project Notes > Letters in a Coma

coma: state of unconsciousness characterized by loss of reaction to external stimuli and the absence of
spontaneous nervous activity.

the icu

a monitor, monitoring responses- breathing, brain pressure and stability.
(a limited field of vision)

composing tic tac toe drawings within a sequence-- diffused transitions and slowing
slower speed. a fixated movement. or new season.

a waking dream of changing colored atmosphere

pink and yellow lines, the x and o's of shifting patterns

sampler stitches, sutures
visibly bleeding from within.
ever stable

non-illustrative

space

of contemplation and failed communication.

the birds are
relationship/other
a frame for the foreground:

implying a conversational narrative and situational context.

sensitivity

death

tic tac toe: repetition of activity, symbolic, gridded reality.
x and o: two personas, expectant response, poetic gestures towards other.

tick tack toe:
soundings of the original game in which players brought pencils
dropped down on a numbered slate- eyes shut.

Poetic accompaniment to Letters in a Coma:
T.S Eliot: Four Quartets, Burnt Norton

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?
Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,
Round the corner. Through the first gate,
Into our first world, shall we follow
The deception of the thrush? Into our first world.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,
In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,
And the bird called, in response to
The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.
There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,
Along the empty alley, into the box circle,
To look down into the drained pool.
Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,
And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,
And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,
The surface glittered out of heart of light,
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.
Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.
Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.