I HATE NOTHING! is a ritual.
It is a return to absence.
It is a scream held in metal.
It is a return to absence.
It is a scream held in metal.
Six stove pipes rise like bones. Cold. Hollow. Echoing.
They once carried warmth. Now they carry ghosts.
They once carried warmth. Now they carry ghosts.
A voice speaks from inside the body of the sculpture.
It is the voice of a woman who is no longer here.
She speaks of weather. Of pain. Of numb hands.
Of a kind of love that exists only in memory.
It is the voice of a woman who is no longer here.
She speaks of weather. Of pain. Of numb hands.
Of a kind of love that exists only in memory.
A screen stares back at you.
Empty rooftops. Dead spaces.
You wait for something to move. It doesn’t.
You feel the cold. Not outside. Inside.
Empty rooftops. Dead spaces.
You wait for something to move. It doesn’t.
You feel the cold. Not outside. Inside.
This work does not decorate. It does not explain.
It asks you to listen.
To stand still long enough to feel what is missing.
To hold the tension between homeland and exile in your chest until you can no longer breathe.
It asks you to listen.
To stand still long enough to feel what is missing.
To hold the tension between homeland and exile in your chest until you can no longer breathe.
There is no hatred here.
Only loss.
Only longing.
Only the quiet violence of survival.
Only loss.
Only longing.
Only the quiet violence of survival.
This is not an installation.
This is a funeral for warmth.
This is love turned into metal.
This is a funeral for warmth.
This is love turned into metal.