ALISON CHEN
Los angeles, u.s.a.
video and photography-based artist
“The three of us have fused together. We have forged our own rhythms, our own patterns, our own dance. Each days blurs into the next, as our voices stack on top of each other. We are each other’s everyday, mixing and swirling together and becoming more blended as time passes.”
I hide behind sealed doors while tucked away in bed. I need to be still, even if for a few moments. I can hear the sounds of them playing in the yard. Occasionally my 3-year-old leaves gifts at my door, or taps on the window to update me on his adventures.
Each day, we open all the blinds and windows to keep the air from going stale. We need to breath fully and allow the outside world to seep through our home.
My husband builds our son a fort in his room — walls within walls — where he plays music and reads stories. We are all creating shelter and craving freedom at the same time.
After my son is asleep, I open my door and sit at the doorframe step. The air is still — crisp and quiet. Cool. Dark. Refreshing. Then, I hear two voices in conversation. They are too far to see — probably standing outside their cars around the corner. It is the first time in a month that I’ve heard the voice of someone that wasn’t part of my family and wasn’t mediated by a screen or any form of technology. Their voices are warm and joyful, those of familiar friends. They laugh. They say good- bye. They part ways and I return inside.