THE SQUARE ROUTE OF MINUS ONE
A RECORD OF PAINTING, BETWEEN THE LINES ā PAINTING BY NUMBNESS, THE UNSEEN-SCENES-BETWEEN-SCENES.
āI am aware that the photos are dead, yet, this publication is only alive because it refuses to be real. The orbit of zero. The square route of minus one. [ i ]. The hallucinatory, the self-consuming, the linguistic fever dream where the imaginary and the real, collapse into the impossible number of [ i ] : the unseen engine behind oscillation. Read it with [ i ] in mind ā a world that only exists in tension. There is no positive or negative here but a disappearing perpendicular to both. This work does not describe, so much as it vibrates along the imaginary dimension where all emotions wither and language intersects; trembling between decay and divinity, contact through distance, presence through the algebra of absence.ā
- Harley Roberts
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THE SQUARE ROUTE OF MINUS ONE
THE SQUARE ROUTE OF MINUS ONE
A RECORD OF PAINTING, BETWEEN THE LINES ā PAINTING BY NUMBNESS, THE UNSEEN-SCENES-BETWEEN-SCENES.
āI am aware that the photos are dead, yet, this publication is only alive because it refuses to be real. The orbit of zero. The square route of minus one. [ i ]. The hallucinatory, the self-consuming, the linguistic fever dream where the imaginary and the real, collapse into the impossible number of [ i ] : the unseen engine behind oscillation. Read it with [ i ] in mind ā a world that only exists in tension. There is no positive or negative here but a disappearing perpendicular to both. This work does not describe, so much as it vibrates along the imaginary dimension where all emotions wither and language intersects; trembling between decay and divinity, contact through distance, presence through the algebra of absence.ā
- Harley Roberts
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A RECORD OF PAINTING, BETWEEN THE LINES ā PAINTING BY NUMBNESS, THE UNSEEN-SCENES-BETWEEN-SCENES.
āI am aware that the photos are dead, yet, this publication is only alive because it refuses to be real. The orbit of zero. The square route of minus one. [ i ]. The hallucinatory, the self-consuming, the linguistic fever dream where the imaginary and the real, collapse into the impossible number of [ i ] : the unseen engine behind oscillation. Read it with [ i ] in mind ā a world that only exists in tension. There is no positive or negative here but a disappearing perpendicular to both. This work does not describe, so much as it vibrates along the imaginary dimension where all emotions wither and language intersects; trembling between decay and divinity, contact through distance, presence through the algebra of absence.ā
- Harley Roberts
