my video work is my signature. well i am not sure. but an artist has a signature that one can find in all their work. that signature is often eschew in art. I don’t always sign my paintings. But if I give them away I do sign them. this deliberate inconsistency reveals my identity crisis. My fear and shrivelled confidence. to be a kind of protest over my identity. But generally I’ve developed a status which is coded with my desires. my paintings are also research projects. i often refuse to sign my costume making well there is no place to sign. Unless I add a label. sculpture also, no signature plate. And script writing? don’t even have a clue where to start. My note taking seems to be improving. online energy, and institution making is a distance highline. everything remains unfinished. half calculated and under-realized.
onward i push because sitting idle feels too much risk.
we are all sodden-out, with this trumped up election. our vulnerabilities used against us by a thuggish, thicknecked, cockall. you know when you allow yourself to be completely unconcerned with anybody else’s needs, or desires? he seems to do that at his core. there is no point where he recognizes our shared condition. it never crossed his mind. who ever gets to do that? Donald. he is that duck. he is richi rich. he is some sort of cosmic comic book wound.
and so him and everything else seems like an emergency. the direction he pulls is not new. already in our system. a system that calls us each to account for ourselves differently. all pulled onto the red carpet of exposure to our cultural location, our unique ways masterminded into holds. these holds pulling us apart, summing us up – all these stop and frisk techniques – drag us. they are acts of segregation and incarceration waiting to be abolished. when can we re-job casts into alternative identities. when the corporate ladder falls loosing the globe from policing and war. and probably giving some poor people much needed bed to sleep in. we can raise these unsettling nation states and their great invisible industrial slave trade with their untapped power across international and state borders where capital strains us, i remain depressed. it seems to me we are doomed to tread in infamy from now till the end of the world.
but i say to my hurt and crying self do not stay in your holds. go elsewhere. anywhere. hither from your own regard and others, plant gardens. plant them everywhere. often. with care.
please, send your regards to Standing Rock and all the people protecting and watching the water, air, and land.
yours in the great undoing,
of kitchen door