{"id":1385,"date":"2012-02-29T10:05:11","date_gmt":"2012-02-29T18:05:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.oliverk.org\/weblog\/?p=1385"},"modified":"2012-03-11T08:44:05","modified_gmt":"2012-03-11T15:44:05","slug":"its-not-nothing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.oliverk.com\/blog\/?p=1385","title":{"rendered":"it’s not nothing…"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"lost<\/a>

lost pom pom<\/p><\/div><\/div>\n

\"a<\/a>

a little closer<\/p><\/div><\/div>\n

 <\/div>\n

I suppose there is a certain amount of cheek to me writing this on a leap day<\/a>, a day that shouldn\u2019t even exist except in service of an inaccurate calendrical system. Today exists, but then again it doesn\u2019t, or rather it exists under the guise of a convenient idea. But what of materiality? The lost pom-poms I keep finding all over the streets of New York seem real enough, despite having been separated from their originally intended assemblages.<\/p>\n

Things come and things go, but do we really understand this? At what point does matter coalesce into being and what are we left with when it disappears. Is nothing really nothing? A void? Emptiness? Or is nothing just something that hasn\u2019t yet happened? What is the size and shape of this nothingness?<\/p>\n

In The Turin Horse<\/em><\/a>, The Hungarian filmmaker B\u00e9la Tarr<\/a> envisions a world, inhabited by an elderly horse cart driver and his daughter, that is slowly diminishing over a series of days, as if the universe were a giant iris stopping itself down, until finally all we are left with is an overwhelming absence. But is this the absolute end? The filmmaker never answers this question. Perhaps the darkness he leaves us with is akin to the primordial dark matter, a kind of pre-generative firmament from which the rest of the universe will once again exude itself like so much quivering fruit.<\/p>\n