building.html


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    <title>Building | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>

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        <h1 class="title">Building</h1>
        

        
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    <section class="thing prose">
    <p><em><a href="toilet.html">ART and CRAFT</a> are only the inside and outside of the same building. The ceiling is</em>—here he put his eraser to his bottom lip, thinking. He crossed out <em><del>The ceiling is.</del></em> <em>The floor is reality and the ceiling is <del>aspiration</del> <del>desire</del> that which is desired. CRAFT is building a <a href="boar.html">chair</a> from wood. ART is using the wood as a substrate for an emotional <a href="poetry-time.html">message to a future person</a>, the READER / VIEWER.</em></p>
    <p><em>The important thing is they are both made of wood. The important thing is they were both, at one point, alive natural things that grew and changed and pushed their way out of the dirt into the air. They formed buildings out of the air. They didn’t even try.</em></p>
    <p><em>What separates us from them, the trees? <a href="plant.html">We have to try.</a> We must labor to create our ART, <a href="index.html">our buildings of air</a>. We lay them out brick by brick, we build them up by disintegrating trees and forming them again into what they were before. Why must we do this? Are there any advantages to this human method?</em></p>
    <p><em>Our advantage is <a href="ouroboros_memory.html">memory</a>. Our advantage is the reaching-out over space and time to others with our words, our ART. Our buildings last for generations, and after they are demolished they are written about, <a href="man.html">photographs</a> are taken, we <strong>remember</strong>. The <a href="riptide_memory.html">act of memory</a> is our only ART.</em></p>
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