November 12, 2019
A manifesto in consideration for the anti-aesthetics of art in food.
You see, or will eventually come to, most people want their food, their expression, their physical representation of what lies beneath to be the perfectly picked apple in the garden, the dew still glistening upon the waxy skin calling to mind the virginal offering to you: the eater, the consumer, the audience.
We stand shadowless to negate that pristine standard of high society engaging in art for pay.
November 8, 2019
“Here We Are and How We Got Here”
My maternal grandfather died in his early fifties from lung cancer.
My paternal grandmother died in her late forties or early fifties of a brain embolism.
However, my paternal grandfather died in his eighties, the quiet sins of the body and patience prevailing in their insurgency of his pleura.
November 7, 2019
yeah, once upon a time, we were the world; you and i, fleshless, static, inviolable, anti-sentimental (my PIN was our anniversary, but wrong). you worked and you talked while i knelt and undid the knot between yr knees. those were the days, paisley crazy & always late. i was never in my body, at all; we never met eye to eye, no regrets for what was never even poorly understood.
November 1, 2019
falling flailing failing
gripped by potential
lashes and laughter
a camera flashes