Thinking about the suspension of death. The infatuation with the end of a life. Today we visited two separate mission ruins on national land. This preservation of the end, and the luxury of pausing (or at least slowing) the demise of erasure altogether seems to be a very human compulsion. This fascination with the end. A day or so ago while walking past a mission's yard full of crucifixes, Matt noted the "morbid fixation" with what was really a very short period of Christ's life. I think this theme of morbid fixation carries through in many aspects of life, religion and otherwise. I'm interested in suspending the death of domestic space or object relationships in my work. What marks the end of something? What marks the beginning? Is new ownership rebirth of inanimate things?