sex dreams

violin & candlestick, 2008's ending

ever since i've been practicing tibetan dream yoga  (and haven't left my nest for weeks), i've had some strange dead guy visits.

the other evening, aa showed up at my hotel carrying a giant slab of raw, shrink wrapped meat as if he was delivering room service...i'll spare you the details of the second portion of this dream.  Then loandbeholdtightly, georges braque appeared and presented me with a gorgeous cubist rendition of my cunt, he said that licking it was getting him nowhere...

apparently, all of this time had passed without anyone having the balls to tell the man that painting was long dead around here.  Well, I've got Big Balls...

if

realized that 'if' keeps showing up in my bathwater in order to destabilize the past and its unceasing analyzation.  

Maybe the detective that cares for nothing but the present is a futurist.

dreams & dust & dust & dreams

Lately, I've been attempting to contact Raimundas Malasauskas from a lucid dream state to ask him if he'd be my virtual bridegroom. Somehow, instead, Guy Debord shows up and says that he'd like me to help him with some guerilla re-arrangement of a grocery store. He hates how the insidious fucks manipulate one's experience of Dérive through the calculated control of product placement that forces you to walk past a bunch of unnecessary expensive shite in order to get to the essential items. We're going to stack things to the ceiling, piling everything on top of the useless, pricey, impulse buys so that if a mesmerized consumer attempts to buybuybuy, they have to pull the item from the bottom of the commodity totem causing everything else to come crashing down on top of them. I suggested a climbing rope to get to the toilet paper at the top of the product sculpture, but he told me that that was an unimportant detail and that I was banished from the SI for at least 3 nights.

The phone woke me at 9am and it was Vito Acconci (I'm sure it was him, who else would do this?) vocally masturbating on the other end of the line. Unfortunately, I was no longer dreaming.

The following images are excerpts from a recent series titled

Time Stills: The Solitude of SImulteneity

(I figured Raimundas Malasauskas wouldn't mind sharing the title of his narrative since we're going to be electronically and cosmically linked if all goes according to plan)

from time stills, Sequence 1, 2008

from Time Stills, sequence 1, 2008

The Center for Photography at Woodstock is exhibiting the provocative work of Toni Pepe. I enjoy this work for its incredible use of light to evoke mystery and the suggestion of narrative. Powderydust concatenates the images while metaphorically suggesting time, memory and absence...

Toni Pepe, Untitled, 2007, from the series, Angle of Repose

Toni Pepe, Untitled, 2007, from the series, Angle of Repose

Toni Pepe, Untitled, 2007, from the series, Angle of Repose

"Absence and presence is a recurring theme within this series, implying that each image works to reference something beyond the frame. Photography best portrays this thematic approach since by nature; photographs possess a fundamental quality of absence. All of the elements within the frame—the props, costumes and gestures prompt the notion and tangibility of loss and memory. If we had never met could I still have a memory of you? Can we make present something that is absent?"

this is the time

and this is the record of the time

The following photographs of photographs are important to me because they document the decades leading up to the recent 50th birthday of my friend Teresa Vito.  Teresa's a role model and an inspiration to me as the first woman I met making a living as an artist.  I met her when I was one quarter of a century alive.  Our families both come from the mountains of Abruzzi.  We shared a porch, and many stories, at a house on Madison and Colfax for many years. 

 

Teresa Vito is one spectacular human.

The following images are from the

Thyssen-Bornemisza Art ContemporaryCollection as Aleph06.03.2008-26.10.2008

They appeal to me because they represent many pieces of work, created from many mediums, understood as a multitudinous, layered, visual archive that echoes a plethora of voice and time.

I am now obssessed with  ALEPH

Sarah Lucas, Bunny Gets Snookered #3

"A comparative reading of the literary oeuvre of the Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges forms the point of departure for this investigation. Borges’s oeuvre and its conceptual as well as narrative landscape is used as a methodology to build up a sequence of potential narratives (and fictions), continued (as if) en abîme in a collective archive of visual imaginary. 

Aleph – the cosmic point that contains all times and places in the universe, a fabled observatory that figures the endlessness of all things – frames the sequences of potential structures and possible fictions: from the issues concerned with the principles of identity and meanders of authorship through paradoxes of language and space-time confluences down to conjunctions of universe and utopia, reality and fiction, mirror and encyclopaedia. The exhibition emphasizes the processual reading of the act of collecting as practice(s), in which combinations and permutations of arrangements create ever new meanings, contexts and relationships between artworks."

Matthew Ritchie with Aranda\Lasch and Arup AGU: The Morning Line

Biennial of Contemporary Art of Seville

"The Morning Line is challenging architectural convention: The team of collaborators has designed the first semiasographic building, an architectural language that directly expresses its content through its structure – a structure that is simultaneously generating itself and falling apart, enclosing an interactive environment inside which a possible future can be seen – and changed."

This work exemplifies, in unconventional and dynamic architectural expression, concepts that are gripping me at this time.

[This may lead us to curator and writer Raimundas Malasaukas (who I'm attempting to contact while I sleep), the brilliant Craig Douglass Dworkin,

and cockroaches that crawl out of your dreams and onto the sidewalk to be stepped on by a boy, in front of your eyes, the next day.]