Counterfeit Commonality

1. Wonder and Awe

2. Doubt

3. Forsakenness; retreat to self.

Karl Jaspers talked at me about this.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Through a lens. Now oblong, now backward.

Transformation is key. It happens regardless of our pathetic wills, but it can be harnessed, shaped and influenced at least. Or so it seems. Thus we have things like "identities" and art. Physical manifestations leave some nice trails to follow, some crude documentation of the flux to which we are beholden.

I went over the handlebars recently. Dumb and perfect. The best experiences are usually humbling. Otherwise we're just riding on empty air thinking nonsense about being untouchable. So I'm transformed and reevaluated through the lens of some permanent scarring. I haven't been able to get the taste of dirty asphalt and ground teeth out of my mouth.

Someday someone is going to cut me in half. Some kind of transformation is always ready to break you down. I like Chuck Palahnuk's book "Invisible Monsters." Mostly at any rate. It plays heavily on the themes of enduring an event from which you cannot recover and the unreliable flimsiness of appearance. The main character (spoiler alert here, if anyone reads) turns out to have shot herself in the face. It took off her jaw. Who you are to yourself transmutates out of its stiff predecessor in key ways after such trauma. People whom realign in the wake are profound in a way I've long admired.

The solo show for which I was gearing up has been cancelled. Or, rather, I cancelled it. The space isn't right, the work needs more fermenting. And I want more of it. It's refreshing to work in the studio without two layers and a parka for a half hour at a time.

This was a good piece I saw at Space Gallery:

I like its timing. Gravity is, of course, a major player. But is it on or off? Is this the moment when this figure perishes and is transformed forever? Earth and body become one again. It's also as though the duality of the movement (up and down) manages to suggest an outward release of something like a spirit from the body's suddenly dead vessel. Blood in the soil, ashes in the wind.

Veruca la'Piranha is a friend of mine. She performs at drag shows that have been going on at The Blue Moon. It's an impressive affair. Themed, with edgy and creatively repurposed clothing and accessories, great music and performance. It can even get dangerous and messy. Objects get broken on stage and various fluids spray the crowd at times. Money is thrown. Gay and straight alike people the small room. It riles up the spirit in a way probably something like what punk rock used to do.

Veruca was assaulted recently. In my neighborhood not more than a block from where I live, no less. Her daily conceptual transformations are cross referenced now with unforeseeable physical transformations. It's made me livid, to think of people harming and aggressing. But I know that Veruca will transform outward from this, too. Realigned.

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