The Weight of the Move

There is a particular silence that descends when a decision must be made. It is not the absence of noise, but the sudden narrowing of the world. Everything outside the immediate reach of the hand falls away. The city may roar, the wind may turn cold, but the mind retreats into a small, singular space. We spend our lives moving pieces across a board, hoping to anticipate the next turn, the next loss, the next inevitable retreat. We think we are in control of the geometry. We think the pattern is ours to dictate. Yet, the wood is worn smooth by hands that are no longer here. The game continues long after the players have left the table. We are merely holding the space for a moment, waiting for the right configuration of shadow and light to reveal what we have been trying to hide from ourselves. Is it the game that matters, or the quiet that follows the move?

Bobi Dojcinovski has captured this stillness in his work titled Chess Player. He finds a private winter in the middle of a crowded city. Does the board hold the answers you were looking for?