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# 105
Beauty Is a Method
Christina Sharpe
I learned to see in my mother’s house. I learned how not to see in my mother’s house. How to limit my sight to the things that could be controlled. I learned to see in discrete angles, planes, plots. If the ceiling was falling down and you couldn’t do anything about it, what you could do was grow and arrange peonies and tulips and zinnias; cut forsythia and mock orange to bring inside.
e-flux Journal
Posted: December 10, 2019
Category
Literature, Aesthetics
Subjects
Racism, Blackness, Beauty, Memory