Artist in Residence 2016: Chris Knight Part 1

March 14, 2016

I’ve always loved stories. As a kid, I carried books with me everywhere, reading in the car, disappearing under racks of clothes while my parents shopped. I lay on the floor in front of the TV for hours, re-watching my favorite movies on loop, soaking up mindless cartoons, watching another dumb sit-com with a book pressed close to my face. Stories were a way to meet new people, to break into their lives, to learn about the world I was still too young to experience.

As individuals, as a culture, stories are the tools we use to define ourselves. We remember our victories and our failures. The things we’ve done, the people we were with and the things that matter to us. They let us outsource our memories, preserving our experiences, our identities against our inevitable disappearance.

Or at least, that’s what we hope.

But the Preacher of Ecclesiastes reminds us not even our stories will last. They will all be forgotten. We will be forgotten. In the central line from the passage I’ve chosen, the Preacher writes, “There is no remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after.”

So then, who will to do the work of downloading us? Where do we go once we’re copied? And what if we change our minds? I’m still not sure where the story I’m writing is going. But I know that’s where it will start.