Wednesday 26 May 2010


satisfaction to him was another kind of labor. she connived and had her own highchair to dive from. a toy of herself. did he remember to bring his drugs up from the basement? his bald head twitched. sandpaper and cattle calls and small blades. an electric mower for grass he doesn't want to cut.

she gave him the unholy stinkeye. bangs and eruptions from his stomach, a shutter,the slats and shadows of her veins in his face. charisma shuffles its feet and peaks through a free publication. liars dance and pantomime while partial-psychosis partially serves as a conduit for an entire truth.

micromanaged thoughts and personalities, a lack of a notebook. scheduled pleasures turned into a middleman, a silly fool- and lazy. won't frame a picture. the lost and lonely bathroom detached from herself, it reeked and moaned about most of the day. a lichen or two in the urine stench. friends that make art.

consciousness of surroundings at all times. a fixed preparation and sort of tension. she needed a birthday present on the 30th. she wanted to schedule a time to show the venue. she wanted a waiver of arraignment. she needed her art to sell. she needed a microphone. she needed me to come get my art. he needed me to come get my art. he wanted to come get his art. he wanted me to submit some of my art. she doesnt trust my art. she doesnt care about my art. he inspires my art. so does she.

his mannerisms had grown so subtle; feedback had begun to disappear. treasure my ancestors and a day when black and white left more. we filled in, tried not to lie, while she read from her fantasy and held it together- thoughts somewhere in the room almost cried, happy and so supportive. afraid of a different kind of loss. she wasn't just moving away. they'd shared the craft and it led them to

sentient cavern that fills and then drafts, so warm, then so apathetic. a container. non-reflective racing thoughts and a roof, a sort of business that's delusional. busy-ness like prayer, makes thinkin' do more or less not much more than half of fragmented ideas. a thorn in the mood, rotten cayenne hourglass with a wart nose chuckle. permeates and stains. trashy multi-tasked fingers cramp and sleep, to wake up and do it all over again. oblivious or so it would seem.

Monday 17 May 2010

bathroom love

and somewhere overlapped thought bubbles of ed hall (cryptic invisible mixed in is also whoever else,such as be that as) it may john otte and praps' eggtooth and then geof huth is the head of this tireless frozen meteorite trailing notions into all of it.
still life of fruit from the collection of unisa asokan featuring waterjug "off-hand abstractions" and the eyed of the hurricane again-topel with part of the Living Point to the right of image.
just some spittle.
see that soot collecting from the volcano, from the oil across the sea floor, in the grit of natural mediation's pop, the filter clogs. and makes pretty patterns.

Tuesday 11 May 2010

bathroom sand and cloud phase

notice john moore williams lIIght poem in upper right corner
John Otte's contribution to the most recent phases come from an undertow that has been pulling and digging for the torque for over 2 decades now. His hand and eye have saturated in a way for so long now, they are rotten with a fertility that is beyond me. There's a sense of vision I enjoy relating to and it is very much, to me, about the humor in points. I'ts covered in and rich with awareness of so much before it. I relate to what is held on to. To come to now, and the desires that art will always have. The need for work to breathe. The necessity for this kind of environment. To play.To look for ways to gouge- and to be quite relevant and quite serious.

one chance detail.
andrew topel's work serves as a sort of twisting eye. the sanded back details surrounding it are what Otte calls anthropological finds. im reminded of geological references to laws of superposition and inclusion.and playing chess by myself. is strange the balance of this process. the creamy yellow-ish color is bothering me. i want to react directly and swiftly, but then i do not. been feeling a great deal like this bathroom is just simply gross. and just a bathroom. a sort of remorse and self-doubt turn into a renewed affirmation,tho. so much at play. the understanding is bigger than me and shifts in many parts. this public space that has no claims. is so roughed up and tilled, ready to be attached to with no right or wrong. experimentation teases me. so much to do.

Tuesday 4 May 2010

VISUAL POETRY @ EYEDRUM may 1st through may 15th

the above video in the foreground can be viewed at the link to youtube provided. video "rains hard' by nisa asokan
melissa johnston
steve dalachinsky framing one of 30 stills scrolling thru a video made by nisa asokan.
carlos m luis
nico vassilakis (pieces anachronistically displayed from his "american fossil" series
Reed Altemus (primary colored pieces on wall) in case features parts of satu kaikkonen's work on left and christian hamrick"s book on right
satu !
christian hamrick, zacc denton, and geof huth
andrew topel. this piece was used to seem as tho' it were a key to the exhibit.
nisa asokan's statement regarding the practice of burning books.
john m bennett
andy martrich
pilar martinez
ashes from burned book night of opening

geof huth from his "waxwords" series
clemente padin, caterina davinio, john moore williams, allison rentz, john m bennett, mara hernandez, reed altemus, nico vassilakis, steve dalachinsky
john lowther, melissa johnston
andrew topel on screen in background (framed by steve dalachinsky's work)


If you think you think you should heed the warning of your mother and sister and not risk uncertain sorcery,turn to page 25


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