i’ve been a jackass. could i possibly make it up to you by making you a mix tape consisting only of cassettes & cds i owned between 1992 & 1999? thx – r
images from the start of my road trip this past summer, as i left south jersey. from what i can surmise at present: my Jersey Shore seems in tact. others’, not so much. i think about it & remember.
b/c of Hurricane Sandy, a previous fleeting desire to spend my apocalyptic birthday there has increased. if we are all to go that night – i’d like the (mid)Atlantic to take me.
This past Saturday I was so so excited to create & exhibit a new work for Bring Your Own Beamer at the Knockdown Center in Queens. The evening was great! Music, crowds, so much darkness. Good thing I’m not afraid of the dark no more. Since I do not own a digital projector, I borrowed this old 35mm projector from a friend & executed a variation of a piece I’ve been thinking about for some time, over some years. Much in the vain of my enlarger works, I was interested in shining light through 2D objects. Couldn’t do currency as I simply can’t justify spending money cutting up banknotes, for now. The result was/is: Invisible Landscape Number 2012 (pronounced: twenty-twelve).
A mix of early fall foliage, samplings from a children’s encyclopedia series, and home-made slides derived from photos from a developing series: Pictures While Driving. Viewers were welcome to sit down & control the piece themselves. The first interactive work I’ve made since my collaborations in Philadelphia. Very. Satisfying. All. Around.
Art in doctors’ offices & hospitals. Statement. Let’s talk about art, let’s talk about doctors, let’s talk about the health industry, let’s talk disease! “Too much to talk about,” you say? You. R. Right. Welcome to my brain, in my year(s).
As some of you may know, I’ve spent a too-large-proportion of my time over the last 2.5 years in health industrial complexes. It’s difficult. The atmosphere sterile (necessary), devoid of contemporary taste (understandable) & inundated with fluorescent lighting (cruel). I’ve been to hospitals & clinics, health centers & offices, lines & rooms, waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting for the doctor, waiting for the test to end, waiting for the needle to enter or graciously exit my body. Waiting. Just and always: waiting. To see a physician, for a stress test to be done, for a treatment complete, for something like a result or most resembling a reason.
Some waits short, others I still endure. It’s okay. But what’s very NOT OKAY is what my sensitive sensibilities have been subject to over seasons. My old hospital had posters of artworks adorning its halls, my current hospital has actual works of arts on view through the corridors. (I made a dutiful decision both in form & practice back there.) And then I drove 17 hundred miles (and back) for that fucking mediocre photograph of rocks & mountains? Or was it for the moments one can not describe, in word or image? The unutterable views I passed or the moments of pure ecstasy I felt in the face of nothing more banal than a gas pump, or my own reflection in a formerly unknown landscape.
I wish they could make a point-to chart for experiencing (art). Instead of “breathlessness” it could read “discomfort while viewing this artwork” or simply “FEELING”:
0 – No Feeling* At All // .5 – Very Very Slight (Just Noticeable) [feeling] // 1 – Very Slight (feeling) // 2 – Slight feeling // 3 – Moderate // 4 – Some What Severe (feeling) // 5 – Severe Feeling // 7 – Very Severe Feeling // 9 – Very Very Severe (Almost Maximum) [feeling] // 10 – Maximum (feeling)
Then, maybe, arts education could be easily quantified & taken srsly. You know, knowing the unknown, as Auto-Immune diseases are to science, art works could be to… Art. There is no cure & we may not know much about it, but we sure-as-hell know how to describe its symptoms.