Let That Be Your Last Battlefield
filled not with black and white mirror image people
but with "modest mouse colored people"
& right handed "mirror milk" waves saying okay ...
“Remember when monkeys jumped on the bed falling off always bonked their head and little bunny fufu bopped field mice on their heads too? I never understood why they had to die.” #ninelivesmatter
Duration: 9min 18 sec
Last year I woke up spitting on my pillow. My mouth was blood filled because a tooth fell out. Then I read that this dream warns the sleeper of change. Deciduous, it said, means to shed. So I decided to focus instead on the thoughts inside my head. I got a dress and learned to make beds. And mess them up. On the springy ones I would buck like a horse and neigh loudly. It felt serious (if I were a horse, but I was not) and then I got caught. So I focused instead on lofting the sheet to fall perfectly on the form. Sometimes I would loft the seams against the inside and have to start over so crooked bodies beneath the sheet would feel the smoother side of the two.
List of artworks:
1. Three Marks of Existence, 35x22”, archival pigment print*, black tape, push-pins: “the successor to the thumb tack"
2. Pitcher’s Window, 16x43.5”, archival pigment print*
3. Catcher’s Cupboard, 16x52.5”, archival pigment print
4. The lion eyes could see inside fighting minds, 22.5x15”, Archival Pigment Print*
5. The Dark Side We Never See When It Is In Our Mouth, 12x15”, archival pigment print*
6. Crooked Bodies Beneath The Sheet, installation (16x18” archival pigment print, wood, iron burned silk)
7. heavy metal vintage Iron balanced on a nail from the Catcher’s Cupboard also in support by black tape, interactive installation: you are invited to help construct a viewer point-of-view typology of the iron.
Please take a photo of the iron.
Post online and hashtag, #tapenailiron
Your image will appear in an online gallery and be part of a future exhibition.
* printed in 2017 on paper aged the 11 years of my life as a Seattleite, 2006-2017 **
** The end of the roll is wound tight. The curvature feels of form. Flattening or glazing feels defacing. Taping and tacking leave a trace or efface.
I bought this photo paper in 2006, the year I moved to Seattle. I moved it. I stored it. I sometimes used it. I kept it in my truck for a year. Now, just enough paper remained to print select images in the theme of Impermanence. The paper has been subjected to time, temperature, air, transition. Today I packed my entire life. Tomorrow I move it 818 miles east of Seattle.
As Above So Below
[Viviana] on the face of a Venus in gaze of ancient space, it’s a city panorama she sees from her skates
(while saying signora in tres lengua’s no joke!)
Emerging from the smoke Yitong serves us Jamon Estrella’s with joy …
while Bonita Kay hides the baby boy from Saturn and
Curt searches for the last Goya in trashes, volumes and patterns.
A story by first name in alphabetical order
[Abby] Tell a tale of ten cities in balance by a tail. [Anna] Who’s tall tall people wear berets and profile smiles. [Arana] They offer 16 hands to lend, mend and count grains of sand, [Benji] as they sing fantastic songs about elastic waistbands. [Bethany] Along-side a friend shares bonds and time – no drain, no waste, long palms to understand... [Bo] and even in the rain she’ll drink wine with grace or squeeze a lime with great haste. [Chau] Ready to roast her, sharing wisdom and depth, she serves a duck on spicy voice toast: “Here’s you to, here’s to me, I hope we never disagree, but if we do, #!@* you, and here’s to me!” [Chloe] With 12 darling bracelets, she winds up the time … [Desiree] so Desire can bind us in allegory and rhyme. [Jen] Much like a halo and Lions of Leon glow, Jen lends guerrilla glue to all who can’t sew. [Jesse] But Jesse, grand Jesse, refuses glue: he can tie a shoelace, loose threads and 84 bows. [Josh] Emerging from the dark in a light that glows red we no longer ignore the true pace of Fred or his behaviors revealed from inside the fridge door … [Kathleen] or the Kat who found her way without lines to erase. [Mel] Identity wrapped she maps and traces a lace-veiled lady – she’s subtitled and unbridled ode to a purple crayon with which Harold once drew: this gal we call Mel invents fantastic worlds anew. [Mona] And then colors swirled when Not Lisa, but Mona! salted the paper and sprayed on it ammonia. [Rachel] Then later, much later that very same day, a girl with perfect pitch strung a pearl and named it Viola. [Ripple] Around the corner the shadows reveal, Mandy, aka NoSe’! behind the trailer hitch. “So Many Secrets” she raves while staging a scene with a replica poison pearl ring. [Stella] Composing a photo with Viola on her finger she waves at Mandy from behind her camera, but smoke is to thick to see her view of mascara …
I wonder if watching dust feels fast when we are old ... (the end)
My grandma laid with her mouth wide open | I thought she was singing
But it was more serious than that ...
Bored would be better
She pointed at a
plastic flower that
It smelled like nothing
I shook off the dust
That upset her. She coughed. I sneezed. Now she would have to
watch the dust gather all over again.
I wonder if watching dust feels fast when we are old ...
WHITE-INSIDE-OUT-UNSTUFFED-ANIMAL-BEAR-BAT (DESCENDING STAIRCASE)
An Homage (herein lies)
once nude | fur now worn inside
unable to recline | hide behind
stuffed with a bat
in need to defend | no bend from within
(from cloud of Zeus) naked descend
pivot, rebound, follow the sound
of Nauman’s violin tuned to D.E.A.D.
to find Duchamp (not dead)
with outside instead
INSIDE THE MOORE THEATRE DOME
On One (ohara)
a Dugout or homestead
Relief (from my dog)
Black Hills Gold
as above so below
Momamouch and Tomcat watched as I drove away.
At the stop sign I removed the lid of a small box Momamouch gave me.
Inside nested three plastic soldiers in pins and needles.
My gut wrenched as I glanced in the rearview mirror where
Momamouch and Tomcat remained by the curb,
Hands extended for several seconds of a silent goodbye.
WHEN THEY MOVE THEY TAKE THEIR FENCE WITH THEM
When they moved they took their fence with them. The house next door has been abandoned for two months now – all the windows and doors left wide open. While they lived there everything was closed tight. Blankets covered the windows. Arms were either crossed or flailing about. This family hibernated inside, as did the previous six occupant groups living next door. Shortly after moving in, the father escaped in an ambulance and was a ghost to the house for the following month. In his absence the daughter moved in her Guatemalan fiancé who spoke little English while she spoke less Spanish.
Their fence went up shortly after this, but not before we became aware of our neighbors.
When they move they take their fence with them (performance / photography) photo credit: Paul Berger
Pretty Fences (begin)
1. get your free hat!
2. take a brown bag
3. position yourself in the field among the hat posts
4. make like a fence post & do what you want
5. interact with your neighbors
6. perform for the cameras
7. eat an orange
8. play with your prop
9. enact your view of “Pretty Fences”
10. stand like a fence post
11. move to a new position
12. repeat steps 5-12
(later) When they move they take their fence with them ...
1. unground any remaining hat posts near you
2. carry the post and your things in progression to the finish line
3. follow the leader
4. snake out a path through field NO 2
5. alternate leaders
6. walk as a “moving fence” to the finish line