How limited view most of us have of the immediacy and imminence of what is coming, the smell of a burning forest, the sound of ice melt, the depth of ozone depletion, the touch of a hurricane. We continue to go about our daily motions keeping these thoughts at arms length or further still, in wait of the inevitable, with limp fingers and loose nerves. Stars Cry presents a mystical cosmos of consumption, the stuff we have sacrificed our only home to produce, but also points to its collapse, the crashing down with unknown casualties. Dust settles, soaps slip continues in this vein, to construct a landscape of that which was natural, commodified, trashed and pulled back out. To glimpse again that which could be if we choose to hold it closer.
