The Dispersion of Time

The upper half of the image weighs heavily upon the lower half. The brightness and vividness of the wall outshine the darkness of the ground, creating a stark contrast. These dreamlike patterns on the wall—branching in from somewhere beyond the unseen edge of the frame—might have their roots in the sky, having made their way inside through the [likely] destroyed roof of the house.

The origin of the word, ghengh [war], meaning “progress and movement,” here takes the form of a violation into the private sanctuary of a home. The household objects, scattered in an instant by the tremor of a mortar blast, have in the next moment assumed the order of a still life born from destruction. War has torn through all boundaries, advancing to the intersection of the home’s horizontal and vertical planes—then seemingly halting at the very edge of time. The stopped clock hands and calendar pages tossed into corners speak of a place where time has lost its meaning; this is now the end of time—apocalypse now.