In that delicate hinge of dawn and dusk, the world holds its breath. Darkness becomes a medium, the veil thins, first breaths are drawn, and departing souls exhale their last. The Pillars by Reuben Paterson is the invitation and an opening into this suspended, shimmering threshold. To enter is to move among living trees rising as kaitiaki, parting the ordinary to make way for a realm where whakapapa flows in multiple directions, where past, present, and emergent time coexist without hierarchy. Foreground and background collapse; human and non-human, earthly and stellar, ancestral and speculative move together. And like all thresholds, it requires an invitation—an opening of the senses, a calling-in, a small spell to mark the crossing. In this world, beings hold attention without fear, without hurry, as if harm itself has been suspended, turning gently toward us, welcoming our presence into their place.
An extract from Dina Jezdić's essay Thresholds commissioned to accompany The Pillars
