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Sun Damage
EP 88.
By way of beauty and aging, math and mirrors, Sun Damage locates the velvet ropes between language and understanding, where “a conundrum is a semantic impasse, not an actual condition of the world.” What are the proportions of the self, and to what extent might one measure the blur of the body through self-observation, self- erosion, or self-reflection? Kate Colby gracefully gathers evidence of the self’s fading (“Cognition is the mist on the mirror I write in with my finger, but it always disappears in the time it takes to see it”) via serial mini-essays—a series of “dark questions”—which accumulate as shards of contemplative rage, violent static, and threatening strength. These are mirror moments: sharp, clear, and uncanny, as well as deeply curious of art’s ability to satisfactorily replicate anything authentic.
Excerpt:
That I perceive myself as distinct from everything else makes me a broken mirror—not cracked, but in the sense of a broken record, out-performing its role, silently turning into the night.
Cognition is the mist on the mirror I write in with my finger, but it always disappears in the time it takes to see it.
By way of beauty and aging, math and mirrors, Sun Damage locates the velvet ropes between language and understanding, where “a conundrum is a semantic impasse, not an actual condition of the world.” What are the proportions of the self, and to what extent might one measure the blur of the body through self-observation, self- erosion, or self-reflection? Kate Colby gracefully gathers evidence of the self’s fading (“Cognition is the mist on the mirror I write in with my finger, but it always disappears in the time it takes to see it”) via serial mini-essays—a series of “dark questions”—which accumulate as shards of contemplative rage, violent static, and threatening strength. These are mirror moments: sharp, clear, and uncanny, as well as deeply curious of art’s ability to satisfactorily replicate anything authentic.
Excerpt:
That I perceive myself as distinct from everything else makes me a broken mirror—not cracked, but in the sense of a broken record, out-performing its role, silently turning into the night.
Cognition is the mist on the mirror I write in with my finger, but it always disappears in the time it takes to see it.
26 pages, ebook
First published March 30, 2017
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