Trading Time
We’re all moving. We’re all on a continuous cycle.
A room is just a room. But there’s something about one’s space. It has meaning where before it was a shell.
Is the sum of a human being the point? Or is there an aspect to our lives that has greater meaning?
Every waking moment should have value.
Not a square inch of space should be wasted.
I filled my humble room over the span of 2 months. It took much more time this way, but the room has a realness now. I feels like it is my own. And now I want to hold what I’ve got.
It gets hot down here. But I love it. It’s hot so I change my clothes. It’s dark so I get good sleep.
But an reasonable place to live that has access to what you need is key for getting things done.
Each time I went to my storage unit to remove a new item, I knew I was faced with a choice. Something for ascetic value, or something for utilitarian purposes.
Then there were the boxes that were unmarked. Those were like little cardboard shaped surprises. Presents to oneself.
I’ve found art that I made decades ago in pristine condition. Things that I thought I’d lost forever, pieces of one’s adolescence and teenage years that were presumed to be felt in memory only…if not forgotten completely.
To have someone’s memory repaired, rejuvenated. For what are we if not the culmination of remembered moments?
Then there were tired documents. Things meant to be forgotten. Purging of papers that have no meaning anymore. Receipts for gasoline from 2006, receipt for sneakers from 2007.
The video is a record of both song and time. An imprint of forgotten moments with music that symbolizes the uncertainty of physical change.
Regardless of where I’m going, I’m here now.
-Tyler