When the body meets geometry meets the world’s edges, what uncertainties emerge? Theorem is both question and answer, proposition and proof. Accompanied by luminescent images that complicate and dissect the speaker’s voice, this collaboration is a glorious meditation on what it means to hold secrets across time and space.
Advance praise for Theorem
Entering the pages of Theorem, its risky business of collaboration, where the lyrical reaches of language alternate with the curious powers of visual art, one delights , in the book’s mystery and control; its structure and freedom; an extended, five-section exercise in restraint, simplicity, and the open-ended investigation of the self.
—Kirsten Andersen, Provincetown Arts, 2020
Books about self-discovery often culminate in a revelation, which readers may find temporarily satisfying. But what happens after that? In Theorem, Bradfield’s words and Contro’s images open up another possibility. The revelation is not in arrive at a destination but in beginning to map the journey, as well as in recognizing that one’s perspective of past events changes as time goes by. This is the enigma of being alive and alert. This is what Theorem offers the willing reader—a place to return to in order to set out again and see what has changed.
When the body meets geometry meets the world’s edges, what uncertainties emerge? Theorem is both question and answer, proposition and proof. Accompanied by luminescent images that complicate and dissect the speaker’s voice, this collaboration is a glorious meditation on what it means to hold secrets across time and space.
Advance praise for Theorem
Entering the pages of Theorem, its risky business of collaboration, where the lyrical reaches of language alternate with the curious powers of visual art, one delights , in the book’s mystery and control; its structure and freedom; an extended, five-section exercise in restraint, simplicity, and the open-ended investigation of the self.
—Kirsten Andersen, Provincetown Arts, 2020
Books about self-discovery often culminate in a revelation, which readers may find temporarily satisfying. But what happens after that? In Theorem, Bradfield’s words and Contro’s images open up another possibility. The revelation is not in arrive at a destination but in beginning to map the journey, as well as in recognizing that one’s perspective of past events changes as time goes by. This is the enigma of being alive and alert. This is what Theorem offers the willing reader—a place to return to in order to set out again and see what has changed.