Vulnerability is the driving force behind Chantal’s work. Whether it is physical, emotional, or psychological, the figures in her paintings, drawings, and sculpture remain exposed and unarmed in some way.
The title No Green Sunsets loosely stems from my unfortunate jealous tendencies. A failed mantra almost like "never go to bed angry" to feel grateful for the life I've built and where I've built it. It comes back to the vulnerability and self doubt - always. The emotions that fuel- and hinder- my artistic practice.
I am like she was.
I have drawn a thousand balloons
I too, lose track of time
I manufacture memories with pens on paper,
reworking ingrained neural pathways
to do nothing more than count the days I'm living
To look forward and back at once
To reach out
To give form to love.
She would spend hours in the bathroom
Facing the medicine cabinet was another mirror
Standing in the right place, I could see endless repetitions of my reflection
I imagine she spent her time here
I get stuck there too.
I have dreams she is still alive
but that I had forgotten about her
she is living in a dark, fragile space, cold and lonely
After her stroke, she looked me in the eye-
saying again and again,
"After they leave stay here
I have something I want to tell you."
I didn't stay .
I find it comforting to think that
what she had to say
she had already said.
La Masa es sabrosa, temporal, multisensorial- life.
Claudia Cano is an interdisciplinary artist with interest in performance, photography and video. Her studies include: projects that observe the interactions between Mexican and American cultures, the nuances and boundaries of the body in a state of physical labor, and works that reflect on the invisibility and inequality of women in an immigrant culture.
Start Again, I Heard Them Say
A project by Josh Pavlick
Sound by Greg Smaller
It really is remarkable that a tiny perforation remains a valid method of capturing an image hundreds of years after glass lenses hit the scene.
Images from the project will be archived HERE
Joe Yorty presents two new works outside and in the dark - a looping video and an ephemeral object. Wendell Kling’s sounds will accompany the works.
Last year, Dad was helping his friend Brent clean out an apartment in La Verkin where he evicted the tenants. In the mess of stuff that was left behind Dad found an object that he had sold in a yard sale in 1987 right before we moved to California. It was a toy box from Mom’s childhood that she had hung onto. Maybe you and Lynn used it when you were kids. In any case, when I was born, Dad altered it to turn it into a bassinet for me. The other pieces that Dad made to turn it into a bassinet were there too.
After Dad told me the story I asked him to see it. He said that Brent kept it for his daughters’ toys.
The fuck?!
Brent was kind of a dick about it, but he gave it to me only after he had already painted his daughters’ names on the sides of it. He painted flowers and curly-q things on it too.
It’s buried in my storage unit now.
Family Four Pak (310 U.S. fl. oz.)
One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
Directed by Omar Lopex
Performance by Todd Moellenberg
