Yesterday Laurie Anderson said that repetition helps you focus on the complexity of the form.

“Black gooey might then be a platform of slowness (“dragged time”, “colored time”), refusal, thought, complexity, critique, softness, loudness, transparency, uselessness, and brokenness. A planar body that longs for the solitude and vastness of the command-line, yet nuanced and sharp, to usurp and destroy a contemporary hegemonic interface.“

<3

- American Artist, Black Gooey Universe

I have a dream about a spider that is a rabbit. The spider-rabbit is very sleepy, it is drooping in my hand. I expect it to fall asleep, but it wants to be put in a bed. I find a bedroom with a child’s bed, and deposit the spider-rabbit into the centre. I cover it with a blanket. 

A woman appears with a child in her arms - she’s a friend of my moms. I tell her the spider-rabbit is sleeping in the bed she wants to put her child into, and she becomes agitated. She suggests we send the spider-rabbit to the west coast. I am appalled at her callousness… how can it be that space belongs only to the one who owns it? Surely she can find another place for her baby to sleep.

planetary-scale grief ecological collapse man-made disasters

forever gay

forever pensive

I walk past the portables.

The facade of each one is illuminated by a single tungsten bulb.

I make figure 8’s with my hands, moving them towards my sternum and then back out again. 

Moths weave in and out of the tall grass. 

The sky is technicolour blue. 

Every tree is a silhouette. 

I place my little finger into the soft space just below my right eye, and pull downwards.

I touch the skin of my palms together, listening to the deafening sound of bats.

I fold my hands into each other, feeling the skin slide.

The lights from the soccer field obliterate the sky.

I turn my body and walk backwards, off the field.

I scratch at the ground with my hands,
 until there’s a hole big enough to put my arm into.


I put my arm inside the hole, closing my first around soil.


I lie down on the ground.


I stay there until the sun sets.

Everyday I walk to the park.


I walk to the centre and stand in front of the tree.

Then, I look up at the sky.

Everyday the sky is different.

I follow the sightline of the trees.

The line is dark, because the sun has set.

I draw a line with my eyes, turning my body to follow the square to the end.
.. And then it’s finished.