Thursday, January 29, 2009

Hollows





















Petah Coyne (left):
http://www.smoca.org/exhibit.php?id=121

Tony Tasset (right):
http://kavigupta.com/artist/tonytasset

Ernesto Neto


http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/27420/in-the-studio-ernesto-neto/

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Folkert de Jong


http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/artists/folkert_dejong.htm

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Apology

Bless me Father,
for I have sinned.

My last confession was...
10 years ago,
3 days later,
and 1 second past.

Blankets of regret
become the epidermis
that envelop,
that devour.

Ravenous repentance
in choosing to do wrong,
and failing to do good.

Justification is void.

Our savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us.
In his name, my God, have mercy...

I apologize

For Adam and Eve
For Eve

For Mother and Father
For Mother

For the slain lamb, for the suffering, for bigotry.

I apologize
and I espouse all of my sins.
Stratums of pulp
odious mounds
fatty under layer, yellow with fluid

anarchistic lines

undulation of fat
a topography of fallen cells
shaking to the floor, the bookshelf, the kitchen knife

food as contaminant

the cyclical process
gorging
excreting
molting

swelling granules

stacks upon stacks
soft shells easily pervaded

Mothering/Making

Splatter-
A run.

It flows coldly
from the side.

A muscle revolts,
searing skin
under the layers.

Branding material,
salt in the wound.

The itchy sand texture
induces the
peeling of flesh
from bone.

Under the psueduo-marrow
the sharpness
persists.
Razor-blades
splitting the edges
of the tender surface.

Cold:
of blood
of spirit
of endurance
of time
of empathy

Restlessness
in sleep.

Physical evaporation
is desirable.

Collapse.

Awake.

Seething frustration
is inevitable,
failure
unavoidable.

Sticky layers peel
away, tugging at
the tiny hairs that
nestle on the flesh.

Filmy material,
gritty material,
cautiously rolled.

A feeble attempt
at preservation.
The existence of forms
becomes the
validation,
the proof,
the document
of physical duress
of endurance,
of devotion.

Belvedere (unrevised)



There is a string,
an entrail that is sprouting
from the gaping mouth.

Burnt umber,
Burnt orange.
Color contextualizes the form.

He is furious with the rapid
twittering movements,
reverberating through.

The end is distant
and essentially unsavory.

Rapidity continues.

It is an unleashing,
binding secretions
of an unknown.

The ponderance is moot.

Yayoi Kusama


The most succinct and informatory interview conducted with Yayoi Kusama that I've ever found:




http://www.bombsite.com/issues/66/articles/2192