There is a river that runs through the center of Kyoto: I first heard it here. A few have suggested it might be the sho, a mouth organ that is used in gagaku court performances. Wikipedia tells me that gagaku literally translates to "elegant music." That is a genre, which is also a judgment, which is also a historical fact.
"Well, that’s cool. What is god, but a self-reflexive tautology?"
Who is educated by Mozart at the Emperor’s Opera house? Or by Velazquez’ Las Meninas – which only hung in the royal palace until very recently yet somehow affected all of subsequent art-history. We are “enlarged” and “educated” by art in a language beyond words and by osmosis and incrementally. Often we don’t even know how or that we’ve been “enlarged” and “educated” till years later.
My calendar informs me that that November gala 13th will be my 87th of 2017, and probably in the neighborhood of the 400th of my seven-year career. In that time I’ve visited schools in rural Guatemala and a community center in Soweto, South Africa. I’ve shared lunch with women in domestic violence shelters and served lunch to the homeless in food kitchens. I’ve donned a blue jump suit and emptied trash cans on the Upper East Side with formerly incarcerated men of color working to put their lives back together.
The body is the seat of the mind, where the mind happens, but it does not set the boundaries of the mind. If the body is a cage, Wallace’s creation is proof that the mind can make itself smaller than the gaps between bars. Wallace’s confinement was undoubtedly torturous, surreal, and painful, and he expresses this in his letters to Sumell. In the virtual tour of his house, he gives explanations for certain features, such as the master bedroom’s jacuzzi bathtub, six square feet larger than his cell. In the words of Sumell, “[The House That Wallace Built] illustrates not only what is wrong, but also what is possible.”