one more time with feeling
Audio-Video Installation + Drawings + Text, 2014
Solo Exhibition, The Drawing Room (RIP), Edmonton, Alberta
But on the plane of impotency all we have are non-conversations,
It’s all too much.
Too much meaning. (Still, meanings ‘as such’).
Too many bodies. (But bodies that won’t touch).
Time has stopped here. (Well, chronos anyways.)
But, how can I heal if I can’t feel time? (Aion, are you there? It’s me Margaret.)
What irony wants is to rise above.
(Above a truth that otherwise emerges in goosebumps — truthbumps.)
An art of great depths and great heights,
A deconstructive force,
That can’t help but transcend.
Reproducing the world through
Hi! It’s me! I’m here to think on your behalf!
I’m here to help you pretend!
Some people are better pretenders, though.
Some people are so good at being “I”.
Pioneers of ascension.
Colonizers of the avant-guarde.
Some people are trailblazers.
But, to break the ground requires a ground to break in the first place.
Blazing the trail means first recognizing its gravity.
Fixing one’s gaze from on high,
Never resting with difference,
Subordinating saying to the said,
Never really getting it,
Missing the joke.
Here’s a funny one:
Every time I turn a corner,
I imagine myself being struck.
But then I modulate the background,
And realize it is me who has done the striking.
To grieve, or to grève, that is the question.
Here are my new negotiations:
a) pre-apocalyptic times call for post-individual measures;
b) eyes/“I”s can be made leaky;
c) the Self can be viscous, resistant, folding;
d) duration can be rendered sonorous;
e) thinking can fall down;
f) and thus flayed bodies (porous and pervious) might not be so bad.