Here is a place to pray, to nothing in particular, on any given day.
Kneel or stand, in group or alone.
It's also a place to play on your phone.
Do what you will, it's up to you.
However, the more selfless your aim, the better you'll do.
The Chick House is a meticulously constructed dollhouse made of mud and horse feces, for the comfort of four baby chickens. Formally, it is a proposition for utopian residential architecture inspired by nature oriented ontologies of permaculture and feng shui. The piece utilizes cognitive development techniques emphasizing the use of miniatures as tool for personal reparenting, while proposing a solar-punk future cohabitation scenario between a Japanese transgender woman and her black non-binary partner.
Meanwhile, we speculate on the agency of Chick House itself. Were we drawn by a symbiotic microbiotic pull wherein our microbiota was acting through us to establish an exchange with the microflora within the local soil and equine population? Could Chick House in fact have proposed itself as a transmission from our future selves, a retro-causal hypersigil? Perhaps, it was a cloaked mandate for a temporary home by a species of tiny Strieber-esque interstellar light beings operating on our deepest subconscious spaces. This object, this entity, clearly has a life and attributes beyond us, and it continues to challenge our understanding of how objects and ideas circulate in space.
While Chick House has been dismantled, it exists in its ecological components in near identical (not chemically altered) states long before and after its installation. Conceptually, the piece ‘lives’ in Southern Spain in a sort of a-temporal speculative space. Most poignantly, it operates transtemporally on our notions of being as it continues to rewrite our personal narratives around childhood, midlife and death, and scatters our sense of personal subjectivity as it invites the experiences of the baby chickens, the soil and manure, the elements and any other entities and streams of consciousness to contribute.
When Freud suspected that his student Jung may not pick up the torch of psych-sexual theory right where Freud left it, he warned his acolyte: 'Beware of the black slime mud of occultism.'
This is a fair metaphor, I'm so into it, and it didn't hear it until very recently, already deep into my current mud fixation. So a little piece I wrote:
I am fascinated by retrocausality, or backwards causation, and the role it may have in my own creative process. I have long worked with the trope of the trickster, and have a mask of Elegua, the Yoruba god of crossroads and trickery, on my wall. I have also had a growing admiration for mud. I recently found myself compelled to create some works with mud. I covered myself in mud, in order to chanel its essence, to let it speak through me as a fleshy vessel. I collected mud, and smoothed it into the corners of buildings, to create a smooth transition the ground and the wall, creating a primal betwixt and between moment in an industrial landscape. I also felt called to cover some bright yellow traffic pillars in mud, this impulse being the least rational. Doing research for this paper, however, I learned that the symbol for Elegua is the mud pillar. Perhaps it was a coincidence, perhaps the mask called me to do it in a language that bypassed my conscious mind, perhaps the me that sits and writes this now reached back and time and made the suggestion that I cover these pillars in mud. I can’t speak to the explanation, I can only appreciate the synchronicity. It’s these synchronicities that are the gold of an alchemical process in the studio, my raw material being consciousness and experience.
She's all done, solid Mahogany, Sapele and Ipe for those working marimba keys. Here's a secret: there's a little pipe underneath that connects the mouth to the ear so if you tell secrets into one, your friend can hear them from the other.
Big thanks to Harlan Mack for helping me create the eyeball and teeth bells.
Here is one of my fish posters that I adapted from a poster I made to protest the war on black lives last year. Honored to have the poster's life continue on with its new owner Amelia, a wonderful mother and activist with an instagram page devoted to a mother's sacred right to breastfeed.
Orris' last appearance, of free advice. Orris sat in a parking lot and offered non-professional free advice. 100% of visitors agreed that Orris' advice was at least as helpful as a magic eight ball.
It's been clogged pipes in the art lab. I'm engaged with some very involved projects that I'm super excited about, but I'm struggling with my lack of output. Used to just popping them out, rather than this slow boil that's happening with a few pots. Some of the pots might not even boil, in that case I suppose I'd learn something new about what I was trying to cook. Anyhow that's a sketch I did today up there.
What's your take on production and output? Post it below or let me know.
Drawing pictures! Here's some. Also below is a shot of a big work on progress. An outdoor permanent sculpture at a school in New Haven. So far it's got interactive sound components, 3D printed features and not nearly enough funding, so ask me about it.