︎ prev            next ︎




Threshold

           No traveler goes back to his city of origin



Project Advisor James Grady

Boston University Spring 2020




The concept of this project was inspired by three excerpts taken from the book ‘Einstein’s dream’ by Alan Lightman describing the delicate relationship between space, time and existence. Away from home and always questioning my identity and existence, these three connections were more personal to me as they are thoughts that have crossed my path during many such episodes of self-introspection.

No traveler goes back to his city of origin
I chose this as the name of the project (which is also a quote from the book) because I feel greatly that once you move away from your city of origin and go back to visit, nothing remains the same. You change as a person after having travelled and gathered wisdom and experiences. The people back in your city also change because they have gone through the similar changes but in very different contexts.

In the section below I will be talking about my three final ideas. Please check out the medium blog for a detailed process documentation. The images utilise augmented reality.  Please download the Artivive app to see the full #AR experience.

The result was an instagram page with our collective work as a class, put together by our faculty Mr. James Grady.




Space

Just beyond a mountain, just beyond a river lies a different life. Yet these lives do not speak to each other. These lives do not share. These lives do not nurture each other. The abundances caused by isolation are stifled by the same isolation.






Occurrence/ Serendipity

In the time for a leaf to fall in one place, a flower could bloom in another. In the duration of a thunderclap in one place, two people could fall in love in another. In the time that a boy grows into a man, a drop of rain might slide down a windowpane.






Time

Time flutters and fidgets and hops with these birds. The catchers delight in the moment so frozen but soon discover that the nightingale expires, it’s clear, flutelike song diminishes to silence, the trapped moment grows withered and without life.