Is that the ground below me or your feet?

•May 27, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Bet: A shell cracked open and a soundless force slammed into the sky. Omens: She didn’t look when she crossed the street. Point-of-sale: Poke a hole in anything – logic, a balloon, a throat. Warranty: A pinhole to safely view the moment of eclipse. Schedule: Scars on your body don’t burn like they used to. Sidebar: Remember that you weren’t always free. Bargain: Everything costs, how much to spend? License: Compassion isn’t deep, it’s wide. Feed: The signs are there, you just don’t want to read them. Consent: Why couldn’t I put a stop to you? Leisure: Dissatisfaction is the old black. Elsewhere: They find Hansel and Gretel’s fossilized breadcrumbs and hang a plaque. Limb: Scrape up every hope you have, they will fit in this matchbox. Axiom: He stumbled with that dull knife. Dowager: Just keep this between us.20170107_111940 (2)

Ferdinand gores you in the chest.

•May 24, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Witness: Serving purpose to a terrible degree, my last set of teeth failing. Callback: Understand spiraling down to the light. Sanction: Drafted into an army of your own making, devise a plan to go A.W.O.L. Undoing: Have I been so rigid? Landscape: Assurance the water is not flowing your way. Spike: Lesson in repetitious behavior, the groove in your hand worn like wood. Epic: Spiky on the inside, evolutionary malfunction. Excavation: Never have I felt so lost. Welt: Pull your better self through that rotten skin. Attachment: Left wailing in a room for hours, held fiercely for one whole day. Hypothesis: Distance grows in thickets. Relic: This past smells like nail polish and Merits. Snowstorm: Let’s all go to the lobby. Anesthesia: Doubt grows over skin like a callous. Word: Contract actions and don’t.

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You are the child, you have no choice.

•March 6, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Your creators are at war and always have been.

Involuntarily complicit, learn about a crime after it happens.

Seem oblivious enough, graduate to planning.

Learn to love violence, lie like breathing.

Come from disaster, expect as much from this world.

Yet, gorgeous defiance uncurls in unending lengths of black plumage.

As smoke pours through brick, soot covers all our shed skin cells.

It will buck us all from its back before it allows us to ride it to ruin.

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Just bring me back her head.

•January 6, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Burned down, even dead, you seep like water into the ground.

Those who lit the match will not know you survived.

Live on surrounding them, above and below.

Taste that power and remember.adtly3

Same time tomorrow

•August 27, 2016 • Leave a Comment

A tendril in the dark is clutching.

Licking the air, feeling for cracks to tongue.

What is the nicest viper in the pit capable of?

Ask yourself that question

Bloody Mary-style in the bathroom mirror.

If you are the best of the worst, what does that make you?

You’ll stare into your own eyes for a very long time.

You’ll see no answers there.20160720_064349

 

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root

•July 8, 2016 • Leave a Comment

When I was 15, I saw Crossroads/Fertile Ground by Alison Saar at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts:

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Untitled (from Crossroads installation) Photo by Katherine Wetzel

I don’t recall if I had seen an installation or knew that was what I was seeing, but this collection of work and the way it was staged changed me. The work dominated the space, but in a kind of gentle way. I had never felt surrounded, cornered, or embraced the way I did in the presence of Alison’s sculptures, nor had I been able to hear, smell, and experience art the way I did that day. Such was the effect of the experience, I drew a diagram of the installations in my notebook:

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The Fire sculpture (far right) had a heart like a coal stove, complete with crackling sound and heat. I had never seen work that incorporated the senses the way this did:

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View of Crossroads installation at VMFA in 1993 – Photo by Ann Hutchinson

 

 

To be inside her created environment was astounding, heartbreaking and raw. I have always had a fondness for working with found objects because I believe they are loaded with information and energy. Alison’s use of such objects gives the pieces an extra dimension and weight. I can feel the history, the passage of time, the wear of life. The experience of Crossroads/Fertile Ground has driven my own installation work. Alison Saar continues to move, inspire, and devastate me:

 

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Rouse, 2012 – Photo by Chris Warner

The tip of the iceberg: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alison_Saar

The truth is worse than you could possibly imagine

•June 14, 2016 • Leave a Comment

Too long now

and late

for mourning.

Get now that

empty basket

and fill it.

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