TRACY COLLAMORE

A paradox is an absurdity, a contradiction that oftentimes can be proven true.  It is a dichotomy.  It is a term used prolifically throughout the thought-processes of reason (or the lack thereof).  The Paradox of Place is a concept of infinite regress, a reality in which I find myself every day.  The paradox is simple: in order to get from point A to point B, you first must travel half the distance.  Then, it’s half of what’s left, then half of what’s left, then half of what’s left….. to infinity.  You will never get there.  This concept perfectly describes how I find myself navigating my days, where I start at A, and work and push and reach for that B, but it always falls short of my grasp.  And then I get to do it all over again, each and every day.

So what’s the answer here?  Where is the truth in this paradox I find myself living through?  I haven’t figured it out yet.  This struggle is too close, I feel the answers slipping through my fingers because I’m grasping at it too hard.  But what I do find in each day, is a subtle shifting and moving of stuff.  Stuff that collects dust from neglect, stuff that is haphazardly left in odd places, and stuff that sprawls underfoot and finds a way of tripping up my journey.  This stuff slowly shifts around me, as continental plates shift underfoot.  So I document it.  I find these arrangements of things, and like a crime scene investigator, I suspend the movement and record the evidence that is my paradox.  By working this way, by stopping the subtle shifting of life in particular areas by arresting its development, I find the witnesses of my paradox.