1991 Hejduk
The House of the Suicide and the House of the Mother of the Suicide.
Mother: right, son: left.
smaller than buildings, larger than models, more than sculpture, objects which combine all three.
From:
The Funeral of Jan Palach
When I entered the first meditation
escaped the gravity of the object
I experienced the emptiness,
And I have been dead a long time.
When I had a voice you could call a voice,
My mother wept to me:My son,
my beloved son,
I never thought this possible
I’ll follow you on foot.
Halfway in mud and slush the microphones picked up.
It was raining on the houses;
It was snowing on the police-cars.
The astronauts were weeping,
Going neither up nor out.
And my own mother was brave enough she looked
And it was alright I was dead.
—David Shapiro
Paul Cezanne, The House of the Hanged Man
