Another exhibition has ended. I have been writing about how it feels (to me) to be an artist who puts work out into the world and what parts are fulfilling or not.
Maybe that will be my next project. Fulfillment Data Collection. Ideal (and unattainable) Paradigms and Scenarios. Aggregates and Independent Variables. Stuff like that.
The gallery made this. I like it.
Also I did get some press which always feels good. Nothing like a little validation when there is otherwise no report card.
It is a peculiar path that my work has walked down – a kind of research junkie driven story hour. Trying to share what interests me with people I hope are interested. Investigative reporting visual data carnival . I do miss the days of just painting. When I get that barn by the sea, that is where you will find me. (If my research brain will give itself a rest that is). Thank you for your support and if you did make it to the show I hope you enjoyed it. We truly appreciate your patronage.
All is well on the exhibition front. I am pleased with the show overall and the gallery made everything look much better than it actually is! (They have real skillz for that.)
The show is up until January 5th. Please check it out if you are in the area. It needs you.
In preparation for my next exhibition, “Prognosis: DOOM” I am sharing the artist statement that will accompany the show. I am also including a link to the Press Release for information on the opening reception, dates and location. Hope you can make it!
Prognosis: DOOM Exhibition Statement
Citizens of the human race have forecasted the end of the world for centuries. These self-proclaimed prophets focus on outside threats such as cataclysmic natural disasters, alien invasions, plagues, and interventions from god(s) as potential causes for the demise of both the human race and planet Earth. We are repeatedly told by doomsayers, religious figures, cult leaders, and psychics that the end is near. And, although Earth and the human civilization remain intact, disproving these countless prophecies, we continue to listen with rapt attention for the next threat. The news media assists in the perpetuation of fear by spreading alarming information rapidly, globally, and with fervor.
In 2011, the world’s fixation with December 21, 2012, or “the end of the Mayan Calendar” inspired me to research the history of doomsaying and the true origins of the word apocalypse. The Greek apokalypsis refers to a “lifting of the veil” or “revelation.” As such, a true apocalypse occurs when knowledge is revealed, or when falsehoods or hidden information are brought to light. Further inspiration was taken from the Junot Diaz article “Apocalypse: What Disasters Reveal” in The Boston Review (June 2011) and Daniel Pinchbeck’s 2006 book 2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl. These perspectives, combined with research on the history of doomsaying, contributed to my desire to create work that speaks to how we as a civilization live in fear of our own termination.
Presently, the belief that humanity itself is playing a role in its own demise is being taken more seriously. The question arises of whether this shift in mentality is in fact the “apocalypse” we are presently facing. Can a greater awareness and awakening be in store?
The sea’s vast infinity
Atomic and wet
Dying and breathing
Suffocating and birthing and
Moving so slowly at times there is no movement at all
(At which point lightening speed results
Like an inversion or bending of time
Causing an almost licentious eruption)
The whole entire sea falling into a sudden hole
Spiraling downward as if flushed
Only dry land left behind
Fish bones flat and rotting on gray sand
Even this arid death is worthy of loving
Life is complicated. Therefore, be the water, don’t be the rock. Think about that for a minute. Say it in your head, say it to the cat, just say it:
Be the water, not the rock. Be the water, not the rock.
Sometimes when you think you know what you want or need and you are hellbent on getting it, you are completely wrong.
Lesson learned. How do you like them apples. Exactly.
Third: More Paul Guest:
And I know the world cares not a whit,
if I may invoke the tongue of a corseted age,
for these few words that run out from me
as though I opened a wound on the blind edge
of something in the dark, impossible
to see, sucked up in the night as though
my heart, yes, my heart, were a black hole.
For the whole thing go here: http://www.versedaily.org/theadventofzero.shtml
Yes because I don’t have the words in me so I am reading Paul Guest over and over.
I am listening to music non-stop because sometimes it has the answers.
Or I ask the wolves.
I did not write this, so posting it feels like cheating. The thing is, I find it to be so brilliant that I have to copy and paste it everywhere I can. I just can’t help myself.
“What would it be like
to live in a library
of melted books.
With sentences streaming over the floor
and all the punctuation
settled to the bottom as a residue.
It would be confusing.
A great adventure.”
― Anne Carson
It is nighttime in a vacant lot
It is empty except for one tall building standing in its center
Light is beaming from its peak shooting up
I sit on the curb which is dirty with rubble, wrappers and grit
I sit there bent at the knees
Looking at light
I look up until my neck aches
I just want to stare at light
And change the way I see
Not think about how dirty my pants are getting
Or the silent emptiness of this lot and its possible rats
Because light as only a concept is no light at all
See what happened was
Sitting in the dark in the rubble listening for rats
I froze in place, committed to that posture
Looking up looking up
I just returned home from a Dandy Warhol’s show at The Bell House in Brooklyn. When I mention the Dandys, many people say, “They are still a band? I used to like them” and I say “You should consider continuing to like them. They have a new album and it’s great. They are so prolific and brilliant and don’t ever get bad.” Tonight reminded me of why I love them and why I love music- and why it is actually important to not only listen to music but to also watch people perform it live. Most venues are so horrible and you cant see if you are short but places like The Bell House have managed to bring back the possibility of going to intimate spaces and seeing great bands.
Every single song they played made me feel like I was being injected with dopamine, covered in warm butter, and placed under a heat lamp. Their wall of sound enveloped me and my heart was actually moved to shift its way of beating so that it could better feel the depth of the Korg keyboard, as mastered by Zia and her incredible legs, creating sounds that completely reframed what it meant to feel something in my body. This might sound like a reach, but it is actually how it felt.
Courtney Taylor Taylor’s vocal chords sound utterly destroyed after all these years of singing, but he just keeps on singing anyhow. Alone on stage, he did a cover of Kristin Hersh’s Your Ghost, which is like the most intensely haunting and beautiful song ever. Just the fact that this is the song he chose to cover was to me, kind of a big deal.
Tomorrow I will have to make a playlist on Spotify of the songs that I had forgotten about and still love every time I hear them, like There Is Only This Time, Sleep, Godless, and I Love You. Music makes me realize that I do not have to feel old, or tired or defeated. It reminds me that I can always feel more than I thought I could feel, and that if I feel broken down there is a pill for it in the form of a drumset, a bass, a guitar, clever words, and a chick messing around with a bunch of electric shit, all of which is best served under strobe lights.
Moog Sound Lab, with a theremin.
Today I almost got hit by a car. Well, it did hit me, but just a tiny bit. It was parked, no lights on or anything and I was standing behind it about to jaywalk on a mostly empty street, and then all of a sudden it backed up right into me. I don’t even think the driver noticed that he bumped into me. Luckily I was just taking a step into the street to cross, so it mostly hit my butt and my bag, therefore I survived in tact. If more cars had been coming and I hadn’t stepped forward I would have gotten a fairly hearty banging into. As a person who is very into taking responsibility for their actions, I was indeed jaywalking and listening to my ipod which made the sound of his idling motor something I was not aware of. As for his reverse lights, it all happened too fast. I conclude that if I got hit it would have mostly been my fault.
Anyhow I am glad I didn’t.
Summer school is shit. I am bogged down with work I don’t want to do. I went away for memorial day, I am going camping, and I am just not doing enough of my work. It feels completely impossible to read books about Elizabethan Poor Law right now. This paper on Food Stamps feels like pulling out my eyelashes one by one. Plus, I am desperate to paint.To be in a large studio, with windows all around, fresh air blowing in, the smell of flowers, basil and trees mixing with linseed oil. A plate of watermelon. A hammock for rests. A studio cat. This is all I want really. At least for summertime. Oh, I also want the world to explode just so a new one will form where working three days a week at your day job is enough, and there are more hours in a day, and you need much less sleep in general. You can eat tablets instead of having to go to the store for food if you are too busy doing projects and you can at any time just wish yourself to be sitting at the ocean.
Some days I feel ready to give up everything, move to the ocean and just paint. Just to be in more light, where it is quiet. Sometimes quiet, light, and paint are the only things that makes sense.
In class last week we were discussing the concept of Social Darwinism, the survival of the fittest theory based on Darwin’s Origin of the Species. Our discussion was about the established norms of a society versus the rules of evolution. We discussed different forms of Darwinism, eugenics, conflict theories, the holocaust, and ideas about utopia. Suddenly as I was sitting there scribbling my notes, I had a picture pop into my head. It was of a room, all white, rounded edges no windows, with about 6 very thin people, all in champagne colored long straight gowns, tall heads, sort of alien looking of course, expressionless faces, standing around together. I somehow knew this was another civilization who had gone forward with something akin to eugenics (applied science advocating practices aimed at improving the genetic composition of a population, usually human) and they weren’t so happy after all. It was like a small snapshot was sent to my brain from somewhere saying on all different levels, all of these things are happening, there is so much trial and error, there is ebb and flow and success and failure, there are infinities, there is rebirth there is death, there are atoms and there are things constantly exploding and they are so small, and there are creepy alien civilizations who kill off those they fear are imperfect and they end up all stiff and emotionless and be glad you aren’t one of them.
This venus transit is making my head work too hard. Now feels like a good time to go buy some new pants.