- I smelled like ash and fire for the next two days. My cat became fixated with my sweater. The water ran grey when I washed my hair.
- Pine burns cooler than hard woods. The heat became my frustration in lighting the material and the longing for a hotter flame once it maintained the fire. For a material unanimously assigned with this very purpose, it resists interference to an irritating degree. The flame burnt into the grain, revealing paper thin blades running parallel across the surface.
- The knife was destroyed by cutting the ginger; the blade splintered into the root.
- Everything smelled like smoke: me, my kitchen, my balcony, my clothes.
- I need to create spatial challenge in this work. I want participants to smell my clothing, but I did not actively intend this engagement.
- The language of hospitality is extensive; I don’t know if I deserve to enter into the dialogue because I don’t know if I’m genuinely a hospitable person. I think that’s why I felt some pull to acting as such.
- Everything said about alternative manifestation of heat as a more striking experience or presentation of experience is absolutely true and was apparent to me as well. But I feel dissonance. Other heat, although inevitably present in my life has no significance to me. I’m an incredibly intellectually focused person, and an even more emotionally and physically affected person, but I cannot, under any circumstance, seem to let them cross. I don’t think it’s a problem with personal accessibility, because in my own, I (at least I think) deeply and abstractly perceive the ways that I feel. Any more established translation of my own experience feels inherently disingenuous. The creation of a false wood to burn was not a representation of this disingenuity, but a sort of proof of my own indifference in it once my experience has been translated.