Fellow national curators (myself included) would recognize when our own limitations of history/age/privilege were a barrier and step aside to let others more aligned with an artist or project take over. In this landscape, talented younger artists and curators would receive effective, thoughtful mentorship and training, while those more seasoned would acknowledge and draw inspiration from the energy and ideas of next-generation curators.
What if we define values, principles, and methodologies, resisting the pressure to define outcomes? What if we focus on what drives us and on how we want to live and work together, but leave the imagination open to the concrete shapes our collaboration can take?
sharing rhythm creates a political question about who determines rhythm and when trio in unison, with the possibility of becoming either backup dancers or soloists open-ended and absurdist and nonsensical shame as part of gaze
When you leave you leave the windows open and the doors and because the house sits by the sea by first light a film of sand gilds the floorboards and the kitchen chairs
Hi Hey hi Hey hey hi
URGENT - WINTER WEATHER MESSAGE / HELLO FRIEND
Can you see it? A huge expanse of water, crystal clear, a cliché. Dotted with little floating heads.
In the end there is not nothing. In the end there is endless everything.
Maybe these letters and numbers help me imagine a catastrophic snowfall in Shelby County, KY, or the action in Correspondence. But really the numbers aren’t for me. They’re for my laptop.
A plastic theatre is deathless, staticky, sticky, silent. It is scary and strangely safe. Creepy and clinical but also ubiquitous.