SEEPAGES @ WHITESPACE this friday 7-10pm

Potential image from a potential piece, constantly in fertile motion. Delicious in its rot, its growth. Its history. We find it when we aren't looking, in those places so real and turned open, they can be nothing else. By-products of disaster and disasters themselves. Events continue to occur and spiral off. Taking root in the most conspicuous places, hiding while seeping, generating, and multiplying various spores and windows, a sort of cut-out looking into a truth. It references itself and examines itself, showing the raw compost of experience express uninhibited. Breaking through everything and then raking it into a fermented faux-bedding, suggesting that randomness and awareness do abruptly collide to create in their destruction.


Caroline Lathan-Stiefel curates a show opening at Whitespace this Friday: Seepages.

(above image of work in process by John Otte)

thirst knows no season

ostentatious

His bare taut belly, sunny side up, pressed against the side of the boiling red machine. August heat and not too many hours after sizzling bacon, inertia still bright and versatile in his blood, the crescent wrench refracting chrome light in the yard. He couldn't figure out why she was running hot. Sixteen crushed cans around him in the yard. A cold one almost finished- before it vanishes in his brother's hand.
Frank crushed the empty one with a smirk and sauntered back closer, leering under the hood with his clean original business jawline. Carpet bagger and Freemantle, he calibrated rancid meat in a processing plant for a living. Drove an Audi and listened to pop R & B a pretty good bit.
Frank spoke with a stutter. He somehow perfectly incorporated it into his manner of being as animated and excited.

so frank says
to his brother
still smirking


"You shoulda never divorced her in the 1st place, Bob." Only Bob knew he was talking about the overheated car. Frank pretend to be basically unaware of the car while he discussed the fact that his recent ex-wife had, of all things, gone out and decided to take up some new form of electric yoga. Done virtually, but requiring nudity. It all sounded suspicious. One of the nose pieces was missing from Bob's glasses and in the sweat of the day, the bare coarse metal gouged into his red tender flesh. He stared under the hood, pretending to not let on the that he realized what was going on.
"Frank, have you ever seen The Two Towers ?"
"No man, aint my thing."
"How 'bout Slingblade?'
"Ain't even heard of that"
"The Shining?"
"What? Brah. What ARE you talkin' bout? No. I aint seen no shining."
Bob didnt stop.
"An American Werewolf in London? Rob Roy? Saving Private Ryan? Aguirre, the wrath of god? Walkabout?
When Frank continued to be oblivious,
he picked up a wood splitter (fly swatter)
leaning against the car and
struck him in the sunshine with it

while he gawked at a woman walking by.

Then they laughed and chased puppies and giggled all day.


(image above is from discovery village in austin texas)