(more photos to come!)

“Lingering Squalls”

“I can read you this once, as you did in the past,
when the cold glass it lingered at will, and long last
with a glimmer and glint of a tease and a toy, as it stared in the eyes
of the heart of a boy, who, distressed,
felt for the first time the rise of his chest,
and the pain in his pit when it fell hard and fast”

SQUALL
/skwôl/

n: a sudden violent gust of wind or a localized storm
v: to cry noisily and continuously

What would happen if one could take back all their secrets they favour, in trade for the batch that burdens? Harbouring them idly away, as a chorus of pleasantly lingering whispers, instead of a turbulent tide of lingering squalls? This interactive piece is an exploration of such an exchange, a walk down the twisted road of human flaw and the narcissistic pressure it forces on the heart. It is a glimpse into the realm of internalized fear, guilt, and sin; a physically emotive materialization of existential purpose within the bounds of the human condition, an exercise in emotional ritual. When one crumbles the stone of the levy that keeps this dark storm uncomfortably contained, how can the flow be controlled, the pain deadened, and the secrets convinced to whisper sweetly to the ears of another?

Photo documentation courtesy and copyright of Martina Cleary