Project Description

Tracey Ho

There is a legend told among my people. A legend of a great and powerful woman, who, since time began, has directed our civilisation. She came from the east, from the direction of the sun’s morning birth; with her, she brought knowledge and instructed our people, who were still wearing loincloths and living in trees, in the ways of technology.

Over time, after many generations, she appeared satisfied with her work, and she left our people. She went west, departing with the dying sun. But yet her instructions lived on, and our knowledge increased. Countless generations lived and died, forever improving our capability and our capacity to learn and to discover. To bring hope to our lives and our meager existence. And all the while our people gave homage to the wise-woman who came and left with the sun.

But then came a time that our people forgot. The legend devolved into a fairy tale, told to children, but holding no meaning, holding no wisdom. And so our people forgot. And from our neglect, our ignorance grew. We forgot what it was to invent, to strive, to create meaning from the struggle of life. And yet our people still needed to worship, to devote their lives to something above themselves. And so they created false-gods, invented wise people that could only tell them what they wanted to hear. Celebrities we called them. Politicians we named them. All hollow. All without merit. Without hope.

And so our great and mighty civilisation perished. Remnants of our once powerful and learned society remain all around us. And we mourn, for deep-down, in half-remembered stories told to us by our parents, we know. We know we were once gifted knowledge from the woman who came and left with the sun. And we squandered it. And we suffer.

Her name was Tracey Ho. And we should have listened, and we should have remembered.

Tracey Ho

There is a legend told among my people. A legend of a great and powerful woman, who, since time began, has directed our civilisation. She came from the east, from the direction of the sun’s morning birth; with her, she brought knowledge and instructed our people, who were still wearing loincloths and living in trees, in the ways of technology.

Over time, after many generations, she appeared satisfied with her work, and she left our people. She went west, departing with the dying sun. But yet her instructions lived on, and our knowledge increased. Countless generations lived and died, forever improving our capability and our capacity to learn and to discover. To bring hope to our lives and our meager existence. And all the while our people gave homage to the wise-woman who came and left with the sun.

But then came a time that our people forgot. The legend devolved into a fairy tale, told to children, but holding no meaning, holding no wisdom. And so our people forgot. And from our neglect, our ignorance grew. We forgot what it was to invent, to strive, to create meaning from the struggle of life. And yet our people still needed to worship, to devote their lives to something above themselves. And so they created false-gods, invented wise people that could only tell them what they wanted to hear. Celebrities we called them. Politicians we named them. All hollow. All without merit. Without hope.

And so our great and mighty civilisation perished. Remnants of our once powerful and learned society remain all around us. And we mourn, for deep-down, in half-remembered stories told to us by our parents, we know. We know we were once gifted knowledge from the woman who came and left with the sun. And we squandered it. And we suffer.

Her name was Tracey Ho. And we should have listened, and we should have remembered.