Sailing off to war in a lovely submarine under the sea

All the Submarines of the United States of America, 1987, by Chris Burden

It has been a good many months since I’ve checked back in, all manner of things happening, most good, some fantastic. Every once in a while it is necessary to come to the surface and look about, take in the sea air, to feel sunshine on ones skin.  Then promptly, in very short order, the hatch will be closed, sealed tight, alarm bells and flashing lights will go off as the dive order is given.  But that is in a few more minutes from now, there’s no need to rush.

Just as there are hidden currents that arise deep within the ocean, tossing and distorting the movement of the ship, so is there within the world of air an equal force of nature.  Whether it be words spoken, or clouds being seared apart, wonderful iterations surface, then fade.  That which is thought to be understood, seen within the air itself, is nothing more than mirages of thought and whimsy that play out in the calcium casing that holds a water bathed brain in safety and warmth.   Within this aquarium, of the same salinity of the sea itself, we mobilize to explore the land of the air, a world of sky.

But back to the turbulence, something noted a bit ago.  Instruments that are embedded firmly within concrete or stone, forged out of steel, tuned, tested, questioned, calibrated (again and again and again); are the only means for accuracy, for understanding.  As a storm batters the receivers, wind hissing loudly passed facings and protective coverings; inside still collectors record movements and shifts, noting errors and oddities for later analysis.   The most important means to understand turbulence is through the act of rigid silence and notation.

Enough about storms, craniums, and stirred up airs.  It is time to return to the sea.  It is time to dive deep and discover hidden treasures of discarded history.  Beneath the ocean an entire new world exists, forms and objects hidden in darkness become illuminated glowing beacons that represent the new, the untouched, the undiscovered.  Within these forms and objects stillness is found, and recognition that bathed within the currents that pass through, that life itself moves forward within its flow.




About Sarah Seager

I am an artist that works and lives in the wilds of Los Angeles.
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