jenny holzer, truisms, 1977.
jenny holzer, selection from LAMENTS, 1988-1989.
9/29/10
9/26/10
9/23/10
9/12/10
9/6/10
the moon versus us ever sleeping together again
i sit here, an arch-villain of romance,
thinking about you. gee, i'm sorry
i made you unhappy, but there was nothing
i could do about it because i have to be free.
perhaps everything would have been different
if you had stayed at the table or asked me
to go out with you to look at the moon,
instead of getting up and leaving me alone with
her.
-richard brautigan
i sit here, an arch-villain of romance,
thinking about you. gee, i'm sorry
i made you unhappy, but there was nothing
i could do about it because i have to be free.
perhaps everything would have been different
if you had stayed at the table or asked me
to go out with you to look at the moon,
instead of getting up and leaving me alone with
her.
-richard brautigan
9/2/10
8/29/10
8/26/10
8/25/10
8/24/10
8/16/10
8/15/10
8/10/10
8/9/10
8/5/10
7/29/10
7/27/10
7/26/10
7/9/10
possibly
to wake and find you sitting up in bed
with your black hair and your gold skin
leaning against the white wall
a perfect slant of sunlight slashed
across your chest as if god
were rembrandt or ingmar bergman
but luckily its too early to go to the movies
and all the museums are closed on tuesday
anyway i'd rather be here with you
than in new york or possibly amsterdam
with our eyes and lips and legs and bellies
and the sun as big as a house in the sky
and five minutes left before the world begins.
-leslea newman
to wake and find you sitting up in bed
with your black hair and your gold skin
leaning against the white wall
a perfect slant of sunlight slashed
across your chest as if god
were rembrandt or ingmar bergman
but luckily its too early to go to the movies
and all the museums are closed on tuesday
anyway i'd rather be here with you
than in new york or possibly amsterdam
with our eyes and lips and legs and bellies
and the sun as big as a house in the sky
and five minutes left before the world begins.
-leslea newman
6/24/10
6/21/10
6/20/10
ideas for a future time:
1. meet in the middle of a bridge in the still of the night.
2. collect thoughts you overhear on the subway one afternoon from one end of the city to the other.
3. cut your hair and grow it back.
4. bury reminders of heartache in the backyard.
5. carry post-dated letters with you at all times.
6. stay away, and then reunite with someone in an embrace.
7. love a garden with all your heart.
8. ride your bike through lonely places, keep going.
9. pick flowers as reminders of a time of day.
10. make friends with the past.
11. watch the sunrise from your bedroom, and someone else's.
12. hold hands with someone amazing.
13. leave footprints in an unvisited place for future reference.
14. stand in the same place where your mother first fell in love.
1. meet in the middle of a bridge in the still of the night.
2. collect thoughts you overhear on the subway one afternoon from one end of the city to the other.
3. cut your hair and grow it back.
4. bury reminders of heartache in the backyard.
5. carry post-dated letters with you at all times.
6. stay away, and then reunite with someone in an embrace.
7. love a garden with all your heart.
8. ride your bike through lonely places, keep going.
9. pick flowers as reminders of a time of day.
10. make friends with the past.
11. watch the sunrise from your bedroom, and someone else's.
12. hold hands with someone amazing.
13. leave footprints in an unvisited place for future reference.
14. stand in the same place where your mother first fell in love.
6/19/10
6/18/10
6/16/10
6/14/10
6/10/10
6/8/10
6/7/10
"forget it"
i took you to see one of my favourite artworks. i had told you about all the times i would go there by myself to see it. i would go in sadness, in stillness, with hopelessness, with hopefulness. i haven't been to see it in a while, since the time we went there together. i'm not sure if i want to go see it now. i'm not sure if you recall the same afternoon, or if you separate the time and place from being there with me. it's funny how art takes on different sentiments in time, creating the impossibility of ever really 'forgetting'. it makes me sick to my stomach now to think about being there with you, in a place where i so very much went to think about anything but you. i think that's called an 'invisible memory', when something is so completely affecting for one person alone, while going unnoticed to any others. i can feel a million miles away from you right now, and still not feel that far at all.
forget it, yoko ono, 1988, as part of the AGO's permanent collection.
forget it, yoko ono, 1988, as part of the AGO's permanent collection.
5/31/10
5/28/10
5/26/10
5/18/10
5/13/10
5/4/10
5/3/10
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