We can't know each other. We can't know each other's grief.




Former British foreign secretarty Margaret Beckett, speaking during the first-ever debate on climate change and armed conflict at the UN Security Council, in response to the question 'what makes wars start?' responded:

"Fights over water. Changing patterns of rainfall. Fights over food production, land use. There are few greater threats [than climate change] to our economies too...but also to peace and security itself."




What if our connections to each other, and the earth, as they unfold in time, are themselves a formal element, constitutive of art?


(People have been saying for awhile: art makes life, too, then!)




All grief is public.



Then we are close to each other's grief, without knowing it...