Hong Kong artist Sara Tse’s extraordinary solo exhibit is a secular retrospective on impermanence, nostalgia, memory, and re-telling
time
At the Altar
offering flowers to ancestorsoffering ancestors to flowersoffering incense for people unseenoffering people unseen to incenseall directions one direction no directionempty hands full palm to palm
Late Summer
The spell is over. The orgy is over. We get what we want, then time runs out. We who were born by phallus and wand pass on. Like summer flowers thriving in the untended edges of the yard.
Mindful of Time
Some time ago—I don’t remember how long because I didn’t think to keep track—a couple of mourning doves came to inspect a flowerpot that hangs from the ceiling of my porch. They went back and forth, inspecting the flowerpot, for a day or two, and then they left. A few weeks later they were back […]
A New Moon Intention
The way soft white wheat burns to death in the sun, orhow dried cherry skins unfurlwhen sucked by the coolmint of spring rain, I wish for youto bloom and let go, a faint whiffof sea air flapping on the clothesline
Georgia O’Keefe’s Taos
is time collecting prints on the thumbs of sage smudged hills.A translucent blue topaz lightdisappearingbeneath half-eaten pine cones.
Clocks
How long would the music be withoutseconds and minutes? The feeling of time is different. Put away your phones. Cover your watches.Eliminate all the telling devices. Play Japanese flutes. And ask how long the musicwill play for. How do you keep track?
No Order of Things
my feet knit the socksthat knit her knitting-needlesthat knit herand send her to the riverwhere she finds the rockthat sets her on a pathto where i’m waiting for herthough neither of us knows it