because sometimes i fall over and forget to count the grass stalks.
” landscape is a way of seeing that has its own history ”
I suppose sometimes to be only in the body
one can escape the mind.
when there are moments when nothing quite seems to make sense.
landscape and power.
landscape is an exhausted. ( form)
landscape is ( not ) an exhausted medium
no longer a mode of artistic expression. perhaps fallen.
routine. testing. practice. exhaustion.
can we see landscape not a form of art but as a medium?
a medium of exchange
between human and natural
The other and the self.
Landscape as a social hieroglyph
Landscape as perhaps our own commonality
yet I have no idea what you feel when the soil is between your fingers.
we are surrounded by things we have not made.
landscape as ideology
landscape as method of power
landscape as escape from humanity
i want to count the grass stalks and not say one word.
stressing the disjuncture between spectacle and their subjects
one cannot own ‘ place ‘
The affect is not yet clear.
System. abstraction/ order.
DIS ORDER
and then.
Chaos
perhaps i run
to run away
perhaps i dance
to dance away
perhaps one should count each blade of grass
I like to talk to sheep.
I like to watch clouds.
I like not knowing where i will end up
but to keep going
i like exhausting myself.
even in dreams there has to be a quietness, the hearing nature is still alert.
“the waking have one world in common, sleepers have each a private world of his own.”
i like to hide behind trees
when no one will ever come
and imagine its hide and seek.
this could be a conversation.
but we have sealed our mouths.
leave only footsteps.
.. to perhaps nothing at all.
because sometimes i fall over and forget to count the grass stalks.
Urban re:passages 