KATIE MCGINNIS on Dave Baker
We are born not of silence, but stillness. In our first moments we are greeted by the da-dum, da-dum of our mother's beating heart, each poetic iamb a sweetened jewel. We squirm against the flesh of our own flesh; it is anonymous existence, at a time when identity means little. Our world is dark and unmoving and the stillness is the stillness of the void. Meditate on this, then; it is to pursue an embryo's artistry, a talent lost to the first breath and reclaimed with the last. We seek its memory through mumbles and hums and canticles and softened touch.
We are born not of silence, but stillness. In our first moments we are greeted by the da-dum, da-dum of our mother's beating heart, each poetic iamb a sweetened jewel. We squirm against the flesh of our own flesh; it is anonymous existence, at a time when identity means little. Our world is dark and unmoving and the stillness is the stillness of the void. Meditate on this, then; it is to pursue an embryo's artistry, a talent lost to the first breath and reclaimed with the last. We seek its memory through mumbles and hums and canticles and softened touch.