The Cabinet & Etcetera

Anna Japaridze


03.10 - 22.11



The Cabinet

Like a whale-bone corset, like a world that never breathed.
Subdued beneath a fine veil of dust, the cabinet is a scene beyond its own appointment.
Perfectly still, the china lies unthought, delivered from carnality, and only monumental.
Only for the occasional glance does it perform:
A solemn play of light, an affected bow, a sequence of rehearsed images.
Formality reigns, setting a place for ideal forms that — having never arrived — are never considered gone.
This formality signs a contractual release for the hurried, irregular mass of living to go on.
The cabinet conserves the role of a drab paragon,
called to testify upon the release of a tension for perfection.


As far as anyone is concerned, they are as deaf, dumb, and as mute,
And as indispensable, as icebergs.
This is for the iron balustrade and for the flashing wing.
It is for the lift that nods recurrently; for endless acceptance, for a life of undecorated service. For a
conveyor belt’s migrations, for the barrow and the long-necked crane, for all the silent workers, for
those that do without a stay. Tirelessly, these things propel.

Pause with the spirits of utility. They are hard-heard and uneasy, like a draft beneath a door.
They belong to a world without mirrors, and deflect the gaze.
When their backs break, when they go to rest,
They take their final lodgings in the tide — just as one of a thousand things moving gradually,
without very much ceremony, from sight.