Hello Everyone,

For this week’s message, I am sharing a poem by Matthew Wong, included in the exhibition catalogue:

The Shape of Silence

Drifting down the river

Of another pink morning

I think about how the empty page

Emits its own particular light,

And were a shadow to fall upon it

That, too, is but another kind of writing.

Imagine reading a novel

Where instead of looking at the words

Your gaze was fixed on the spaces

Between them. When you get to the end,

What would you say of what you saw and felt?

I close the book and look up.

A thin blue line is falling asleep on the horizon

As the breeze reaches the end of its lullaby.

I study what’s left of my reflection in the water.

I see now that your nakedness was never mine.

Take care and stay safe,

Stephan