|
Donna Ruff
white pages #5, 2001
11" x 8 5/8"
burn on handmade paper
(Cheap paper)
Referential necessity, historical record, evidentiary life force, seat-heightener,
all-purpose weight, etching plate wiper, doodling pad, denizen of recycling
bin: phone book. The names, our names, lined up in dense columns. Few
escape the droning anonymity. WeÕre lost in a sea of text. A boyÕs name,
a girlÕs name, an initial (most likely a girl, with thoughts of unwanted
call protection.) Some professionals (usually doctors, or PhD.Õs) include
the title before the name. Some couples list themselves together (who
comes first?) Each of the five boroughs has its own phone book. When I
first moved to New York, I felt a little thrill of inclusion when I found
my first phone book listing months later. I kept a New York number for
several years after I moved. I was in the New York phone book, even though
I wasnÕt in New York. How many people remain in the book long after theyÕve
gone? We often donÕt take note of someone until theyÕre absent. ThereÕs
a Jewish belief that on Yom Kippur, God writes the names of those who
will live until the next year in the Book of Life. Is the Book of Life
like a phone book, with thin pages that quickly discolor? There is beauty
in the system. Zoom out from the page, and it becomes a quiet balance
of black and white. Zoom in, and the names assume importance, as they
should. Each one an individual reduced to 6-point type.
|