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240 pages, Paperback
First published August 23, 2013
‘It’s time. It’s about time. In time, on time. Time by our side, time on our hands. Take your time, take time out. Tell the time, time will tell. Spending time, timing it. A long time, a lot of time, the whole time. In my time, at time, at times, for the time being, all the time. Having time, keeping time. Killing time, wasting time, doing time. For a time, from time to time, at the same time, some other time. Time and time again, in no time at all. Turn back time, this time around. Set a time, serve your time, give someone the time of day. Work against time, be behind the times, fall on hard times. The times have changed, the time has come. Time passing, time running out. Time’s up. Time’s out…’ from ‘Introduction’ by the editor, Amelia Groom.
‘‘Right timing’ is another way the Greeks referred to kairos. For them, qualitative time can only be achieved through human intervention. The power to act and take advantage of a special event or action that appears over the unfolding of things is crucial to the nature of kairos. But this cannot happen at any time. Only at opportune moments, when time holds the most potential for change, is kairos possible. Bug again, only if the opportunity is seized and acted upon. Kairos is that critical point in time when a crisis or rupture opens up and is catalysed with human will to create new potentials.’ from ‘A Time Apart’ by Chan.
‘Space has time/times within it. This is not the static simultaneity of a closed system but a simultaneity of movements. And that is a different thing altogether. It means, for one thing, that you can’t go back in space: the myth of the return. But the time you get on the train again to go back home that night, disentangling yourself – physically at least – from those Liverpudlian trajectories, the Manchester you left will not be the Manchester of now (just as you yourself will have changed). Space has its times. To open up space to this kind of imagination means thinking about space and time together. You can’t hold places and things still. What you can do is meet up with them, catch up with where another’s history has got to ‘now’, and acknowledge that ‘now’ is itself constituted by that meeting up. ‘Here’, in that sense, is not a place on a map. It is that intersection of trajectories, the meeting-up of stories; an encounter. Every ‘here’ and a here-and-now.’ – from ‘Some Times of Space’ by Massey.
‘In the old Tibetan Buddhist tradition the disciples make little Buddhas pressed in clay moulds. They are given a big pile of clay and they have to sit there. It takes about three months to make a million of these little Buddhas. It is a repetitive action and also a meditation. But what happens with this kind of repetition is that you start to get attached to the result: your ego goes up because you can say: ‘Look, I have made half a million. I have achieved something.’ So, after their training of three months they do another three months training, the same mode but sitting in the running river, where you don’t have a result and you can’t build this attachment because the result isn’t visible.
In art we have the great example of Walter De Maria, who wrote a short text in 1960 in which he talks about the actions that are useless being the most important actions in art today. The idea of spending time and not making a result, this is really essential, and it is so difficult to talk about it. It is like a soft matter that we can’t explain. Something else takes place.’ – from ‘When Time Becomes Form’ by Abramovic.