Long Dawn: Lottie Consalvo

In Consalvo’s world, the line becomes a measure of the space between where we stand, and where we dream ourselves to be. Not simply marks on a surface but coordinates in an infinite search for the unreachable. They call us into her space, articulating the beautiful impossibility of ever truly arriving—the exquisite tension of longing without resolution. 

Nature is not separate from this liminal space. It is, in many ways, the key to accessing it. In the quiet rhythms of the natural world—the wind moving across water, the hush of a long dawn—we find a closeness to something beyond ourselves. Yet, as we drift further from nature, we begin to lose touch with the mystery and spirit that once felt intrinsic to our very existence. Consalvo suggests that to reconnect with nature is to reconnect with belief itself—belief in what cannot be measured or perceived. In nature, as in her work, there is no fixed meaning—only an unfolding, an opening, an invitation to see beyond.

Her video and performance echoes this call to engage beyond the visible. Often, the action is implied rather than explicit—demanding the use of our mind’s eye to perceive what is not physically present. In doing so, she compels us to question the way we engage with reality itself. What is truly there, and what exists only because we allow ourselves to see it? It is in this tension—between presence and absence, silence and expression—that Consalvo’s work reveals its quiet force.

This exploration is not just philosophical; it is also political. To reimagine reality is to reject the structures that dictate how we live. The relentless pursuit of productivity, the commodification of time—these are forces that shape our existence in ways we rarely question. And yet, Consalvo does. She offers us an alternative; to resist materialism in favor of presence, slowness, and deep attention. Through her personal meditative practice, she has witnessed her power in stretching even the smallest of moments into what feels like an eternity. These "slippages" serve as windows into a richer and more nuanced life than one dictated by the clock. If time can be stretched in a single moment of reflection, if we can slip between its rigid measurements, then is it really as fixed as we assume? If creativity itself is a form of resistance, then what does it mean to live a life untethered from the constraints imposed upon us?

To step into Consalvo’s world is to reconsider everything we take for granted. To stand at the edge of the void, feeling its weight press against the edges of our perception. She does not offer answers—perhaps because answers are not the point. Instead, she extends an invitation: to expand, to question, to see beyond. In the quiet of dawn, the veil between here and there is at its thinnest—paused at the threshold, as close as they will ever come to touching.