film still: rat life and diet in north america, joyce wieland, 1968.

resolutions, fall 2010, pencil on found cardboard.

automatic self-portrait, fall 2010.

" we're on a long journey in a landscape with no features; like an endless field of ice.  we're blinded by the whiteness and have to travel with our heads down, pulling heavy loads over the rough surface.  at times we have dogs to help us pull, but they either fight with each other or get tangled in the lines.  their legs come off easily and the trail is littered with their limbs and bits of stuffing.  i pick up a very small dog and put it inside my parka.  i can feel its warmth seeping into my body.  i develop tender feelings toward it and feel distraught when i lose it at some point.  i'm looking for the dog but then we're looking for some food that's supposed to be cached at a depot.  when we get there we find there isn't enough.  my foot hurts.  we're in a tent and someone says "i'm just going outside and may be gone for some time."  he goes out into the blizzard and we never see him again. "


meeting place, liz magor, 1990.

untitled, 2010, ink on found paper.

film still, moonstruck, 1987.

"what i would give

to build a home with you."

for him, october 2010.

rituals: september 1st - septmber 30th, 2010.

jenny holzer, truisms, 1977.

jenny holzer, selection from LAMENTS, 1988-1989.

YET, summer 2010.

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 found this vintage floral print at a second-hand store in my neighbourhood.  on the reverse, there is a note from a husband to wife on their anniversary in 1933 that reads, "to our life together, and our dreams forever". it now hangs above my bed.

possibly, summer 2010.

mary miss, field rotation, 1981.

govenor's state university, park forest, illinois.

this was one of my favourite exhibits because i saw it with you. 

on kawara, i am still alive (telegram series), 1970s.

present sentiments / future meetings

i go to bed in los angeles thinking

about you.

-richard brautigan

return the stones that line the riverbeds, recover the rocks that punctuate the landscape, disassemble the sticks that lead the way from me to you.

reason to finally pierce my ears -

dear montreal: please try to understand.

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