The key was once blank and whole; then cut and left forever mourning.
We always obsess about losing or misplacing the key because the key embodies power; with it we control our ownership, our security. The key fosters the separation between “yours” and “mine.” It represents our fears from one another and our desire for independence from each other. It stands for our desire for possession, power and hence, hierarchy. But this system of keys has trapped us, constantly growing us apart and blinding us from our very nature, the predisposition for a life of relationships and community. I am interested in the bits of the key that get lost when the key is cut. They leave a space, but not an absence, because it is in that space that the essence of the key system lies. Every time a key and the right lock do their affair, that space is reactivated. The pins align in one unique mute melody. And then there is an opening, a closing, a sharing, a stealing and an on and off.
And I wonder what would result if I asked key cutters to save all the metal filings - that metallic dust that gets lost when the keys are cut. What if I collected them? What if I restored the wholeness back to the keys?