HomebodyNovember 17 - December 22, 2018
Visitor Welcome Center presents homebody, a solo exhibition by Liz Ahn.
Do you know where we’re going?
Tell me something, something about where we are and how it got to be
We’re in a city that we, *******
Or at least I, *******
Was born in *******
__ _ _!__ *******
/ _ _/ |::| ___ ******** ~_/ _/^ / ^/|::||:| *****/^_
/ ^ / ^ / ^ ___|::|_|:|_/_******/ ^
/ _/ ^ ^ / |::|--|:|---| __/ ^ ^___
_/_^ / ^ _/ ^ |::|::|:|-::| ^ /_ ^ ^ ^ _
/ ^ / / / |::|--|:|:--| / ^
/ / / / |::|::|:|:-:| / ^ ^ ^
_Q / _Q _Q_Q / _Q _Q |::|::|:|:::|/ ^ _Q ^
/_) /_)/_/) /_) /_) |::|::|:|:::| /_)
We’re in a spot that feels unchartered to both of us //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
There’s a distinct trail but I couldn’t tell you a longitude or latitude. We could be lost but I doubt it.
Where we’re at is like the landscaped embossed on state quarters: vaguely familiar, some signs, a lot of necessity on trust. We’ve had an unremarkable day and maybe that’s what drove us here. That and the car. We’ve been wondering, mostly silently, how any of this came to be. We’ve heard myths and theories ranging from natural extra and non-extra terrestrial evolution to apparitions and creatures creating the world around us. There’s no way we believe the same story but we’re here together and we like each other’s company. At least I hope we do. I know I love you from the time we’ve spent together. Oh oh oh oh OH I’m remembering now so much of what it was like before I met you and I’m guessing now so much of what it will be like knowing you more. Both the past and future are a taste in the back of my throat I can taste it mostly when I exhale and my tongue is fumbling to understand it more trying to dig deep into it to see if there’s a core that’ll give it any more.
Is it satisfying?