What
we
remember
tumbles
from
language.
The
time
I
lived
without
words
is
without
memory.
Perhaps
architecture,
not
having
language
or
words
as
our
bodies
do,
remembers
nothing
and
thus
it
accepts
everything.
Stone
and
wood
remember
the
shape
given
to
them
by
human
hands.
Of
course
these
shapes
can
be
remodeled
or
remembered,
but
then,
without
words
they
live
in
the
new
present
and
there
is
no
need
for
memory.
All
who
cross
their
thresholds
are
welcome.
Memory
belongs
to
the
world
of
linear
time.
Timelessness
has
little
need
for
memory.
Memory
is
not
necessary
for
the
architecture
to
stand.
Each
moment
is
all
moments.
It’s
shape
carved
by
the
hand
stays
the
same.
Now
and
then.
It
was
built
then,
it
remans
now.
The
human
who
carved
it
may
be
remembered
by
the
shape
of
the
stone
but
that
sinew
is
not
living
now.
Consciousness
and
bodyness
change
and
conflict
with
each
other,
but
architecture
does
not
remember
or
mind.
Now
it
stands
and
now
it
stands.
It
shape
remains
the
same
but
represents
something
different
tomorrow.
It’s
beginning
is
definite,
it’s
ending
is
withheld.
It’s
threshold
accepts
all
gatherings
daily.
Bodyness
and
consciousness
dies
and
with
it
the
memories
encoded
in
that
skin.
The
touch
of
the
human
body
(the
craftsperson’s
hand)
is
everything
to
the
ability
of
the
building
to
stand.
We
shape
it’s
stone
for
now
and
beyond
now,
for
us
and
beyond
us.
Yet
the
architecture
owes
its
standing
to
us.
We
are
remembered
in
it’s
stone.
It’s
stone
builds
our
memory.
It
holds
our
recognition.
The
timeless
architecture
stands
for
us,
not
for
itself.
It
remembers
for
us,
not
for
itself.
=> info | Construct a last
Exhibition: The Last Performance [dot org] @ Haus Der Kulturen Der Welt