rowan spencer
every day
Materials:
visual collage - smartphone photos of the
floor, walls, windows, shower drain, bed, and neighbouring trees of an apartment;
digital illustration; Instagram screenshots; found texture
sound collage: smartphone field recordings of the floor, walls, windows, shower
drain, bed, and neighbouring trees of an apartment; scam voicemail recording
john liles & elissa levy
the steady state
this oh what a while
that we've been given
to breathe the air
we breathe
that we form bonds
how we lend electrons,
something dearest
through the blue
to breathe the air
we breathe and in
the lungs
what bleeds
our honey alights
our hearts
and none of us
will endure this
how to ask anyone near
*
enthusiasm can incapacitate
in the companion animal
what could make bearable all that we must
sugar incantations,
snuggest lifemate,
arteries
are endless
until they aren't
*
and when the dark goes down
and you are photon-lonely
there is no way
to approximate
the touch
Materials for Tiny Organs (2020):
Potatoes and buttons cast in plaster, spray paint, geode,
cast wax Invisalign, wax and aqua resign buttons and wax bone, string, rock cast in aqua resin
Notes:
Our relationship with planetary minerals dates back
over 120,000 years, to a time before we became “modern”. In this very brief geological window, humanity has come to domesticate
the chemical elements that constitute all-natural matter. As we harness material, it is easy to forget that ours is not the only
velocity at play. We stand upon the evidence – miles of rock strata detailing timelines and local histories of an earth that is
always growing.
Here, in a collaboration sprouted and grown at Oak Spring Garden, we examine the complexities and interplays of the quotidian,
within and against a growing Anthropocene. Mixed media arrangements of cast rocks, potatoes, bones, and oyster shells bring the
physicality of a tangible language existing on a single page. Sculpture and language work in the task of reimagining organic
material into new formal relations by venturing through a common ground. In doing so, light is cast upon the reciprocal relationship
between the natural world and how it is employed by humans.
terri witek
folding poem (length of a monster)
Notes:
I'm interested in antiquities
museums and their signage: all the guesses and transcriptions of material objects-- likely
excavated from earth layers-- now housed in glass. I wondered how to excavate the phrases
themselves, already so mysterious. I cut some up and began folding. I unfolded them in little
doc cam performances during poetry readings. 3D animator Dengke Chen animated, and with his
use of timing and space, the phrases took on another strange life. Sound engineer Amandine
Pras then tangled recordings of my readings.
fin sorrel
joseph and me
discogiaii
Materials:
joseph and me - dream capture sequence, text editor, Indesign (from a novel in progress); discogiaii - found toys, tape, reel to reel, digital collage, photo.
emily somoskey
placed space
incandescent
absent glow
Materials:
placed space - oil, collage and resin on panel; absent glow - oil and collage on panel; incandescent - mixed media on canvas.
derek owens & michael blitz
the wooden thing
not weeping! Buckets and buckets of tears. And sweat. No, not sweat! Crying everywhere. Not good.
Start again.
Start with a name.
Then a description. No! Things. Start with the things, then the description, then the names.
Okay, but crying for Christ’s sake? What the hell was with the crying? No one cried anymore. People wept, now.
“They,” he muttered, “should be weeping.”
the twelfth of sometimes
though it was a perfectly lovely bouquet.
“Nothing,” Johnny Mathis snapped, “is perfect!” But he was, as always, wrong. One day, it was true, he would be right. It was a statistical certainty.
“Oh, darling,” she murmured, “nothing is certain.” Still, she thought, he seems sufficiently convinced that I am my sister.
“You,” he remarked, “seem somehow different.”
Yes, she thought, yes.
eland security
“The redacted redacted redacted redacted notwithstanding,” he explained, “the redacted redacted unfortunate.”
“Yes, sir, that makes perfect sense.” Major Thomas was the professional sycophant desired by every member of the redacted redacted. “Will you be holding a press conference, Sir?” The Major already knew the answer would be “Of course!”
“Of course!” General Owens was nothing if not terse. “And I’m going to tell those journalist bastards that if they misquote me, the redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted Pacific Ocean!”
The meeting was over, as signaled by the General’s customary cigar-lighting. Major Thomas turned to the others to indicate, without words, that it was time for them to leave. One by one, the members of the redacted redacted filed out. The last to leave, Major Thomas turned back to look one last time at the man who, by the Major’s hand, would be dead within the hour.
“What are you looking at?” demanded the General.
“redacted redacted redacted, Sir.”
General Owens made the sound he always made. As the Major made his exit, closing the door silently behind him, the General felt the first twinge of guilt. He had learned of the Major’s plans for him and had made sure, during a moment when the would-be assassin looked away, to redacted redacted redacted the redacted.
Notes:
Samples from a collection of 65 stories (by Blitz) with images (by Owens), completed in 2019
