On Dream Spaces

I haven't tried incorporating content from my dream analysis archive into my artwork since the attempt I made in 2011 with See You In My Dreams, but I have been thinking a lot lately about the idealized spaces of our dreams, both in the context of the constructions we experience via our subconscious mind, and in the spaces we create for ourselves in waking life.

I'm thinking in terms of safe spaces, of the utopic, ideal spaces that function as an escape from the forces that plague us socially and politically (misogyny/ patriarchy, racism/colonialism/xenophobia, classism/capitalism, etc.).  I don't think I am alone in craving an escape from systems and constructs that seek to limit my capacities as a human being in the world, but what's been troubling me lately is the knowledge that anything we create for ourselves exists as a product of our existence within the context of those structures.  The struggle to actualize an uncompromised self free of the impositions and dictates of the oppressive prevailing hegemony is a struggle because it is fundamentally impossible to be totally free of those impositions and dictates.  Who we are is shaped and informed by the systems within which we attempt to function.  Creations seeking to break away from the dynamics making us miserable are still functionally reactionary.  Maybe that is OK, but it feels burdensome.

This relates to thoughts I'm having about the dreams we experience at night while we sleep--even within the spaces, scenarios, narratives created solely by and for me/ my mind/ my unconscious, the fact is that they are ultimately shaped/ informed by the experiences I have in my waking life. The seemingly limitless/ boundless space of my own mind are in fact neither limitless nor boundless; the experiences I have within my dreams are shaped by those I have without.

This is not a surprise--it makes sense, and I acknowledge that the limitations of our experience/ the filter of our perception is what provides the foundation for the capacity to dream at all.  But it is frustrating to imagine what would be better, but only within the confines of what is.

What would a completely free space look like?  How would we establish the notion of Who We Are if everything were completely new and free from the context of history or connotational perception?  I don't know, but I'd like to experience that for a change.  I am pretty sick of things as they are--of observing fucked up realities with only the hope of slow progress toward an adjusted version, years down the line.  I want to encounter the world anew, without all of the misguided impositions that obscure and contaminate what is possible.  Why do we continue to abide by structures that make zero sense/ make us miserable/ doom us all on a fundamental level?  Why were these structures conceived of and enacted in the first place? By and for whom?  Not me.  Not the vast majority of the people I know, love, and respect.

I suppose the solution lies in continuing to dream--in creating and advocate for better spaces and narratives, until those become the foundational reality from which new dreams are formed.  Maybe I'm just too impatient, but it feels so urgent, and the urgency is the direct result of how taxing so many aspects of daily existence can be.  I've been thinking lately that my drawings might be an outlet for/ direct representation of that process.  The absurdly labor-intensive/ time-consuming effort to reconstruct the existing surface, bit by bit--mining that surface for facets that can be incorporated into a new and altered structure, functioning within my own system.  I think my digital projects probably adhere to the same general motivation--functioning within existing structures/ incorporating the signifiers of existing structures, but attempting to subvert them/ use them in ways that serve my own process of discovery.  Maybe I would like to try to construct another dream space, but I don't think direct content from my dream narratives are necessary anymore.  I'd like to try building a space made out of a drawing system.  That was the initial impulse for Creep Along--to be able to stand inside of one of my drawings, but that piece became kind of muddled toward the end--the materials were wrong I think.

Anyway, art-making is my best shot/ the outlet that has brought me closest to achieving some sense of satisfaction within the murky struggles with what sucks about reality.  I'll just keep repeating the Cesar A. Cruz paraphrase "art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable," as a mantra...

First Friday Highlights, March 2015 (Experiential Collaboration Forever!!!)

I haven't updated about art I've seen in a while, but a couple of the shows I saw last night made a strong enough impression that I feel like remembering them here.

Andrea Morales' exhibition "Public Play" at Practice Gallery spoke to me as an investigation of the complex social dynamics involved in dating--specifically, how we perform personas within varying social contexts.  The premise of the exhibition was Morales having organised a consecutive series of dates through OKCupid and Craigslist, to be carried out within the gallery.  Documentation of her correspondences with her dates were plastered on the walls for viewers to read when they weren't acting as voyeuristic observers of the activities of the dates themselves.  The dates/ exhibition were all documented throughout the night, and the plan is for the edited footage to be exhibited at Practice for the remainder of the month.

There is so much about the concept and the execution of this piece that I love.  I love that the artist is directing and composing these interactions for the express purpose of manifesting this exhibition, while leaving room for risk, chance, play, and vulnerability (to her collaborator and her audience).  I love that live performance, the documentation leading up to the performance, and the documentation of the performance itself are all integral aspects of the piece.  I love the fact that, even though you are in the room with the artist and her dates, observing their interaction and reading their correspondence, there are elements of their conversations that do remain private/ intimate/ just between them.  Sure, you can see their body language, maybe even catch snippets of dialogue, but you remain at a distance, a member of the crowd--you can't see and hear every element of the exchanges that build the date they are on.

I only had the chance to see one of the dates--the third of the night.  When I walked in, the space was illuminated by red lights.  There was music playing, and I could see the artist and her date sitting on a bench behind parted curtains.  They were both hunched over a camera, presumably shuffling through images.  In speaking with one of the members of Practice, I gleaned that this date had actually been photographing the earlier dates, so they were looking through the images he had taken.  I wanted to make it back to the final date of the evening, which was supposed to be with a female partner, and verge on more sexually charged content, but I missed it unfortunately.

I was sorry to miss the rest of "Public Play," but I was so happy I made it out to New Boone for "Forever," a collaborative exhibit featuring paintings by my studio-mate Kim Altomare and audio commentary by Anne Pagana.  If I had to express my overwhelming impression of the exhibit in one adjective, I would use 'refreshing'--everything about the approach felt like a sigh of relief followed by a breath of fresh air.  First and foremost, the experience of seeing Kim's paintings hung and lit within the context of a gallery space was thrilling for me--so much luster and detail that is hard to recognize when they're leaning against a studio wall came suddenly alive.  It felt like the paintings themselves had been energized/ taken on a new life, and I was so filled with joy for them!  The curatorial detailing--the incorporation of a friendship bracelet-making station [they'd run out of string by the time I got there :( ]; the integration of vibrant pom poms, shimmery sequins, tinsel, streamers, and googly eyes; the coordinated vignettes built out of objects contributed by Kim and Anne's artist friends, placed to keep the paintings company; the hand-articulated signage and decorated CD-players with headphones whose color matched the vibrancy carried throughout--all contributed to the overarching spirit of friendship and collaboration coursing throughout the show.  Walking into the space, every aspect seems to squeal, "Hi! We're so glad you're here! Come be our friend! Stay a while! Look and listen and contemplate with us!"  And how can you refuse that?

Which isn't to say that the content of the work presented is necessarily light or superficial--Kim's paintings incorporate symbolic imagery that alludes to death and violence, and Anne's commentary is deeply meditative.  There is an audio track corresponding to each painting.  I didn't listen to all of them, but those I did made it clear to me that Anne's spoken words access avenues of thought that are quite serious, and speak to a genuine desire for mutual understanding within the insular context of a friendship that exists within the broader, but still insular context of art-making.  There is a sensitivity and consideration for the differences and commonalities in hers and Kim's experiences with and approaches to art and life.  There is frustration and confusion, but also serenity to the acknowledgment that not everything can necessarily be fully understood between two people.  I felt honored to be invited to listen to these meditations, and though they were focused on a personal relationship, I felt included because the concepts being considered speak to interpersonal relationships in general, and art-making practices more broadly.  I got the sense that, though these are complex and difficult territories to navigate, underlying currents of hope, togetherness, and fun can carry us through.

Looking at the show through a feminist lens, I was struck by how it sits within the context of art history, which is so frequently dominated by men celebrating, commenting on, responding to, competing with each other, usually in a very egotistical way that has a lot to do with proving who has the most "genius". The mode of collaboration in "Forever" is definitely in dialogue with that tradition, but from a much more authentic, sincere, down-to-earth perspective.   Celebrating each other does not have to be about proving anything--it can be about inviting everyone into this dynamic of mutual consideration and dialogue, of approaching things in a genuine way, together.

I think I responded to strongly to both of these exhibits because I like what they indicate about where art practice and art exhibition is heading.  There is a sense of breaking things down and exploring them from new angles that I find so empowering and exciting.  It makes me feel a sense of freedom, like there is license to explore new territories and just try things to see where they go.  As there should be.  No more musty, tired art shows ever please!

mənipyəlātəd melədēz (an Aurally Inclined Anagram Offshoot)

mənipyəlāt^əd melədēz is something I started back in March that involved breaking a song lyric down into the phonetic sounds of the words, and then making new, phonetic phrases.  I wrote out the phrases with the phonetic/ grammatical symbols and also recorded myself speaking the phonetic sounds out loud.  I was really into the resulting weird, mechanical vocals, which carry the anagram theme of reducing the phrase down to its most elemental level and re-constructing from that point.

So, I recorded this video, wherein I rearrange scrabble-looking tiles upon which I've written the phonetic symbols used in the lyric "Why is everything a chore?/ I'm too young to be defeated" from Surfer Blood's "Twin Peaks" into new, corresponding phrases, vocalizing the sounds as I go.

VIDEO: 

Pseudo-Poetry

So...I've been writing what I'm calling poems? with a question mark and I've got a whole bunch of them and I'm not entirely sure what to do with them.  I'm planning a video thing that will incorporate some of them, but I'm still figuring out the logistics of that, so in the meantime, I feel compelled to post a bunch of them just to get them out of the obscenely long word document I've been keeping.  Here goes! 

I don’t want you

To ever

Read

These poems.

Or maybe I do. 
_____

I heard from Sascha

That you broke your collarbone again.

It made me think of how fragile you are. 
_____

Sometimes I’m surprised

When things happen to you

And I don’t feel them. 
_____ 

I fall for people easily:

Premature infatuation. 
_____

Sometimes,

The ease with which

I could touch you

Terrifies me.

The almost imaginary quality

Of the air

That separates

Our bodies—

Space

So easily collapsed,

Boundaries

So easily broken.

I can look at the stubble on your cheek

And imagine how it would feel against my skin

So vividly

That it shocks me. 
_____

I flirt because I’m ambivalent.

I’m not convinced yet

That I can trust you,

And I’m not sure

I ever will be.

I was flirting with you then

Because I wanted to make you squirm.

I wanted you to feel

As exposed

As I felt. 
_____

After we’d finished talking,

You lingered.

You gave me this look.

And there was nothing left to say,

Because we’d already said goodbye,

But still

You looked at me

In that heavy silence.

Fuck Peter,

That look still haunts me. 
_____

You think you’re a feminist because you make an 
Extra special effort to integrate

Female Artists

Into your lectures,

Because you recognize that the works of

Male Artists

Have historically been prioritized above those of

Female Artists,

Because you studied under…who was it?  Linda Nochlin?

Whatever dude,

You are hardcore perpetuating patriarchal power dynamics with your Gaze

Regardless of your supposed

Enlightened status.

I do get a twisted satisfaction though

From the knowledge that you Gaze at me.

You,

Watching

Me,

Watching

You--

It has a certain appeal.

I guess probably because it feels,

At first,

Like I have some power over you.

It feels fun

For that stretch of time

When it seems like that could be how it is.

But then something changes

And I remember that it’s not. 
_____

Why can’t I stop wondering about you

And the nature of your sleaziness?  
_____

You don’t fool me.

I see right through you. 
_____

Whatever.

I’m over it.

Mostly. 
_____

I’m a terrible liar

Unless I’m lying

To myself
_____

I’m not very good at

Being vulnerable

Unless

I convince myself that it’s

For

Art
_____
Maybe I’m exaggerating

My own potential

Significance. 
_____ 

It feels arrogant to call myself an artist,

But what the fuck else could I be? 
_____

I am just a person

Who has to externalize

The complicated mess

Inside me. 
_____

I read somewhere

That when we cry,

Our body

Releases toxins

Through our tears,

Resulting in a feeling of relief and calm.

I suppose

These words

That pour out of me

Serve a similar purpose. 
_____ 

Maybe these words have

Power

Maybe these words have

Meaning.

Maybe, because they come from me,

I have power, and

I have meaning. 
_____

Maybe these are just thoughts

But thoughts

Don’t seem like

Enough. 
_____

What

Is

Enough? 
_____

Sometimes

Words,

Images,

Ideas—

They all seem so weak.

I seem so weak.

The things I create are weak

Because I am weak. 

Or maybe

The things I create

Are strong,

Stronger than me

Because they are my weaknesses 
Transformed 
Into something that might endure. 
_____

Maybe you’re weak too,

Only you lack

The transformative impulse 

That could redeem you 
_____

I take

The fact that

Your scanned PDFs

Include the black space around each page

As indicative of

Your inconsiderate

And careless

Nature.

You lack a sense of

Aesthetic care

And practical decency.

You are a colossal disappointment. 
_____

This is about more than you.

It’s about my agency,

My power

To transform 
_____

You keep telling me

It’s not all about me,

But this has nothing to do with you.

Maybe you’re the selfish one

Because you wish it did. 
_____

You say I’m “so intense,”

And you say it like intensity

Is a bad thing,

Like I should be striving

To be dull

Like you 
_____

A friend once told me,

“I can never tell if you’re having a good time.

You always look like you wish you were somewhere else,”

And I felt bad

Because I knew it was true.

Someone else once wrote about me,

“Her enthusiasm is matched only by her skepticism,”

And I felt good

Because I knew it was true. 
_____ 

I’m so sick of waiting

For you to understand me,

For you to realize

That I’m worth

Being proud of.

Why should I need you

Of all people

To tell me that I’m worthy? 
_____

Maybe I’m nothing. 
But being nothing

Gives me the freedom

To do anything.

Maybe I don’t need you 

To understand me.

Or maybe I do. 

Maybe this is too

“Self-indulgent” to have 

“Universal” appeal.

Maybe I don’t give a shit.

But I do give a shit.

I’d like not to,

Because not giving a shit

Would also give me 

Freedom.

In an ideal world,

I would be nothing

And I wouldn’t give a shit,

And I would be absolutely

Free. 

But I do care

And I don't want to be nothing

And I do need you

To understand me. 
_____

If I stop caring what other people think

I’m left with my own thoughts and feelings to guide me

And those don’t seem right either. 
_____ 

I am

What you made me

I am 

What I make myself

Distraught

On both counts 
_____

Fuck these thoughts!

Fuck these feelings!

I’m so fucking sick

Of thinking

And feeling! 
_____ 

Can you hear

Your brain

Clicking

On

And off?

Scanning through thoughts,

Like records in a juke box?

‘Here’s one I’ll entertain.

Select.

Slowly set into place with a click.

Play.’ 
_____ 

I want everything

And nothing.

It’s hard to distinguish

Between want

And need. 
_____ 

I don’t know what

You

Want from

Me.

I don’t know what

I

Want from

Me. 
_____

I don’t just want you to take care of me.

I don’t want to be handled gingerly

Like a fragile thing.

Maybe I will break,

And maybe it will be your fault.

But I can be strong for you too. 

Maybe you’ll break

And maybe it will be my fault. 
_____ 

When shards of me litter the floor,

Will you know what to do? 
_____

I’ve forgotten how to find the good in me,

But something in your eyes

And your smile

Makes it seem as though

That’s all you see.

I want so badly to believe in

The me

You think you see.

I want to be who

You think

I am. 
_____

Who was it

Who said that

When two people meet

There are actually six people in the room:

The you you think you are;

The you you actually are;

The you you want me to think you are;

The me I think I am;

The me I actually am;

The me I want you to think I am.

I like how this idea illustrates the complexities involved in 

Human interaction.

I’d argue however,

That there are 

Infinitely more divisible incarnations concerned in 

This dynamic.

The me I want you to think I think I am, for instance.

Or what about the you I think you are?

Or the you I want to believe you really are,

Or the you I think you think you are,

Or the me I think you think I am,

Or the me I think you think I think I am…

Endless complexity, I say!  
_____
Liking you
Is complicated business 
_____

Who I am

When I’m

With You

Is not

Who I am

When I’m

Alone. 
_____

Not even I

Will ever know

The

Real

Me.
_____

I wasn’t pretending,

I was trying to inhabit a better truth. 
_____ 

I want you to notice me.

I want you to find me intriguing.

Maybe I’m trying to

Create

A reallity

In which I am

Intriguing. 
_____

Stop looking at me!

Look at me!  Look at me!

Stop looking at me!!

Look at me!!  Look at me!!

(In perpetuity) 
_____

There’s a fine line

Between

Attraction

And

Repulsion.

I oscillate

Back

And

Forth

With ease.

Equal parts

Swooning

And

Gagging. 
_____ 

I like how you listen to

Me

When I say things,

And you remember the things

I’ve said or shown you.

It makes me feel like maybe

These things I say and do

Could be important. 
_____ 

I like how you talk to me

Like I’m not crazy 
_____

I think it's cute 
How you say things
Like you mean them 
_____  
I hope you find my weirdness to be

Compatible with yours

I just wanna fall in

Mutual weirdness

With you 
_____

I cannot even fathom

How you must experience the world 

_____

I want to be reincarnated as a lightning bolt.

An instant of electricity,

Lighting up the sky. A

Terrifying,

Elegant

Force 
_____

This is important,

But I don’t know what it means. 
_____

I no longer belong

Where I used to,

And I have yet to find

A new place

To belong. 
_____

“Pain is not a lifestyle,”

Says the sign

In the window

Of the chiropractor’s office

In South Philly.

I disagree.

“Not enough value,”

The turnstile tells me.

Seems awfully judgmental

For a machine. 
_____

Are you my future?

Are you my future? 
_____

Some false notions

Are irresistible.

The notion of  “You”

Or

The notion of “Me”

Or

The notion of “Us”

And

The notion of “We”

The notions of “They”

And

“Their”

Versus

“Us”

And

“Our”

The notion of “Money”

And

The notion of “Power”

“Happiness”

“Victory”

“Success”

“Genius”

Why do we do believe in this crap? 
_____

When you’re feeling worthless,

Make something up! 
_____

Fuck everything;

Take a nap 
_____

Nobody cares

Like you do.

You can’t rely

On anyone else.

Nobody

Is going to

Solve

Your problems

For you.

Start believing in

Yourself 
_____