Object Permanence
May 13 2021
There is a black that absorbs
almost the last photon of light.
So if you cover yourself in this
would you become invisible?
Eyes closed
so your whites do not betray you,
lips pursed
to mask your gritted teeth.
And like a small child
who thinks that putting his hands over his eyes
doesn't just hide the world
but extinguishes it,
would you recede into yourself,
all existence melding
into matte black-on-black?
But nanotubes
made of pure atoms of carbon
are not absolute.
There are no black holes on earth.
So even when all seems lost
— that the darkness will never lift,
that you could paint a hole
and fall all the way into it —
there is always a glimmer of light.
You cannot hide, despite yourself.
And the world goes on,
whether or not you turn away.
There are two types of black made from two separate processes that each absorb over 99.9% of light: Vantablack, and Black 3.0. They are composed of vertical nanotubes of carbon (hence “Vanta-”), and have uses in technology, as well as art.
If art is a process that subconsciously probes one's inner life, I wonder what this poem reveals about me? I don't write confessional poetry – not intentionally, anyway – and I don't write for the purpose of personal therapy. The first would be far too uncomfortable for a private person like me, and the second strikes me as unacceptably self-indulgent: I write with a hypothetical reader in mind, and whatever therapeutic benefit it happens to have for me is in the ventilation, the sharing, and the exercising of my compulsive need to put words on paper. But perhaps something leaked out here. The poem certainly suggests a very dark place. But then, isn't that the universal human condition: don't even the sunniest and most optimistic have their 4-in-the-morning moments of despair and alienation?
I wrote this after listening to this interesting podcast from the 99% Invisible series (see link below).
https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/their-dark-materials/
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