Hanna Hur: Two Angels

Where do images come from Image generating is an act of submission. Patterning a ground with a grid and alternating colored squares takes time. This thickness of time produces a clearing for the mind’s eye. Repetitive gesture becomes a petitioning of the gods for the image to come near. When a form begins to come into focus, it is unwieldy and thwarts the gaze. The image demands a total relinquishing of self, of vision even. When it allows for its body to be seen, it appears only through a mirrored reflection of itself. The original image will not be looked at directly, it requires mediation, refraction. Looking at the sun dissolves vision, seeing becomes a way of dying. Two Angels I began to recognize who had arrived. An angel. Glowing and blessed, undeniably benevolent. Its light blinded me. The red angel emerged quickly afterward. In it I saw a different angelic nature: a pre-religious, pre-moral being. Benjamin’s angel. Or, the being that will come to you when you die. Both angels are impervious to vision’s limits. They never close their eyes. Vision, for them, is their entire bodies. They watch all earthly bliss and terror, never departing. A choir of two singing in harmony, looking.