The Map
Nine sites; fourteen relations. The biological decimal labyrinth, held to a precise structure.
Being preparedFlora enters through relation. It changes what it touches. What grows from that contact is still yours.
A person writes. Another answers. A fragment becomes a machine, a diagram, a room someone can enter. Flora is the name we have given to the change passing between them.
There is flesh in it: growth, injury, hunger, repair. There is thought in it, too. None of these works contains Flora by itself. Each makes another relation possible.
This is an entrance to the existing work, and a place to begin your own.
The works are at different stages. Follow any live opening; return as the others develop.
Poems, fragments, arguments, and previous forms. A record of what has already passed through.
Enter ↗Nine sites; fourteen relations. The biological decimal labyrinth, held to a precise structure.
Being preparedDescend through a terminal of weather, ghosts, voices, and cassettes. Leave a trace; find another.
Enter ↗A generation ship growing around its inhabitants. One life freezes; another wakes into what remains.
In developmentA persistent world made from matter, space, and the acts of its inhabitants.
In developmentA site of your own, if you want one. Your ideas, your name, your choice of what grows there.
The invitation ↗“All ways are wounding,
and yet the innocent pass through unbroken.
Pure folly is the first door.”
You can read, answer, build, or depart and return. If you want ground on which to make something independent, the invitation is open.
A domain, hosting, an email address, and help where I can give it. The practical details are there. Your work remains yours.
Read the invitation