'The measurable loss of water during a bird's flight'
This action on dehydrated land on fields of winter wheat and sea shells, seeks to converse with the language of loss. The text offered up by means of a helium balloon is concerned with the idea of water loss through language. The body like the sea here before, is made up mostly of water, so it is by speech or the movements of words that augment our steps forward. Moving through time the body looses water both literally and spiritually like the turning of relationships and conversations. All of human history is tainted with this notion of keeping oneself moist or fluid.
Flevoland Polder, Nederland. 17.12.94
Russian & American Morgue Chocolates
Consumption alone has become the manier in which life is sustained. In this state lifes processes can not come full circle. Upended in a single direction, movements both physical and psychological become stilted and reactionary.
The chocolate molds were made from impressions collected at morgues in both Russia and America. Through the hint of digestion or thought, these wounds structured superfluous in chocolate are temporarily removed for the living to process again, not to acquaint us with death per say, but to nourish life in the sense of connection to. It goes without saying that barriers are relieved of their duties when one makes a connection between body temperature and the temperature of chocolate or associations with religious practices and biological orders. But laying a grid over chaos seems nonsensical; it chaos, seems better understood through the making of such connection.
Sleeping with Chocolate
A bed is the private space made public through its transformation into hospital bed or autopsy table. Displaying this night time lesion opens a kind of wound, a dream which lays bare the soul through the show of chocolate. The bed contains a heart that enables the perpetual flow of passion permeated by death to be equated in life and forgo putrefaction. The chocolate oozes from the mattress' surface to be purified by the air and light of the viewer. This space is also a sacrificial one, where virginity and life are lost for an unknown, yet hoped for higher good. Maybe this is a counterbalance to the ego and its creation of sexual fantasies, darkness etc. when normal life separates us too far from our true self. Chocolate and blood function at similar temperatures and as fluids they both have come down through history as offerings to the gods or at least as remedies for curing some inner melancholy. I remember reading an account of a field medic from the Vietnam war. He was explaining what he carried with him in his medic satchel, these bare necessities as he called them included: gauze, morphine, tape, comic books and M&Ms (the chocolate candies that melt in your mouth but not in your hand). The candies were for the mortally wounded soldiers, the ones that would never make it; to the field hospitals. For these soldiers the candy was a way to satisfy a simple desire, undoubtedly the desire was more to feel closer to home, (than to satisfy some unknown carnal pleasure for chocolate) before they slipped away into that unknown jungle.
Bandaged is a performance in the metaphorical sense about the discontinuity in living portrayed through an action of pure experience with its aesthetic roots in childhood.
Bandaging a wound is the first step in the recognition of, and the commitment to, hope and a step forward. After the bandage is removed the wounds' memory stays with us in the form of a scar, which becomes a permanent reminder.
The cotton-candy machine comes from the celebrations and festive times of the formative years, the dog days of pure experience. By wrapping my hands in cotton-candy(sugar) that consequently is liquefied by the sun I propose an opening to past pure experiences. The sugar now a sticky syrup(blood) eventually becomes crusty, like a scab that forms giving way to the scar. This action searches at the point where reality exchanges with the ideas and events of the past; here the object head or action disappears or at least ceases to be relevant. The event begins when the hands of the boxer are wrapped, it ends when he has fallen to the ground, in the bright lights he holds his position until the gloves melt away gradually with the regaining of consciousness. Inherent in this action is a simple directness which leaves open a mind path for the viewer, giving their ideas a space to ferment.
Mapping out Narcotic Finger Movements
I have often wondered about the heart being the source of our feelings, and what happens to people when they have a heart transplant. The effect these procedure have on the mind body relationship, could I think be fruitful in a metaphorical sense.
There is an emptiness between the body and mind like that between words in sentence. It is these black-holes between thought and gesture that I am referring. Normally these pauses go unnoticed when each action or thought melts into the next. But when these synapses like junctions don't meld properly it causes an existential breath to be emitted. creating a narcotic like state when life proceeds without the timbre of connected conclusions.
This piece is about grasping what can not be grasped, the what and the why within ourselves. The surgery video suggest to the viewer how the inner body can be distant and foreign in contradiction to its proximity. The body an apparently hermetic system is but an alias for one in constant interaction with the outer universe, i.e. environment. A visual depiction of the opened body exposing the innards [in particular the chest(heart) region] is a metaphor for both a violation and exploration, though not in a literal sense, but still one that exposes us to disease and misfortune.
The object is then a search on a bio-metaphysics level, rather than one of actual mechanics. Sciences has eroded the soul enough with its answers to the workings of things. Now the surgeon searches through the darkness for his learned boundaries as I for my mental ones. As stated earlier this piece is about grasping what can not be grasped. The machine from the luna park becomes the metaphor for the hands that plunge into the dark; those that struggle to pick up water.
The body like a hollowed out canoe, the carcass becomes the boat used going down the river of inner exploration.