How to Inhabit the Word
Your book, In Sensorium, calls us to make work grounded in sensation: touch, taste, sound, sight, and smell.
by Nina Li Coomes
Apr 04, 2022
4 minutes
Spring Smell, Friedel Dzubas, via WikiArt.
Wet earth. Loam. Bitter ash, brine on the wind. The unfurling of cedar, a smell that takes me out of this place and back to bathtubs in Japan; a portal of a scent, sacred and red. These are the smells of the Pacific Northwest wood from where I write this. In the daytime, as light pours around the unfamiliar landscape, I think of it as a new smell, something to gulp. But last night, clambering up the half-hill toward the cottage where I am staying, I took another breath and was suddenly tearful. The damp soil transformed into the smell of my Jiji, wood-smoke
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