LIVE NOODS — Erin Smith……….LOOSE DIAMONDS — Ryan Fontaine
HAIR and NAILS Gallery — Feb 23-Mar 30, 2017
LIVE NOODS at Hair and Nails was only a matter of time and crawling they came, emperor worms. Entering recon 12 fathom program a coral reef Augie’s Day Afternoon. Orchid bather sex and death, Ramen intestines, nighttime fantasy neon bygone by day, substrate none, but not, here: circuit breath. Aura powdery, Pollock puffs, whit, vape, condense, re-infuse. Wiener dog calm ensues. Veritable porcelain plumbing stripper re-tensions split rail glass, cool pulsing dilations… Nothing but harmony. The Beach Boys’ 15 Big Ones don’t ask, they demand, “Ah why don’t you go arrest me from here?” These are such things, cuffing space. Hall and Oates’ silver beam disbars mind, jumps through ice, clean. We are forever. Guru face twitches pants rollercoaster dog. Forget me, forget you, Eat HERE.
Un-clinical toy-camouflage desires Victorian bannister, Klimt Eastwood bats his wings. Baron Von Tantra, in what din’s siestograph machines are we subjects LUV NSA GDP///ctrl alt DLT. Poodle/
EAT Big as your Head, off pedestals at ideal height from window seats. Start, loop, and return to slightly different rainbow holes. Hands, feet, eyes, things on the journey. Don’t gaze into the sun; if you want to live see only dogs, halos, nurseries. In one eye clouds, knots gates; in two, into.
Nona brought Fletcher a sandwich. I told him to sue the band with his name. Which one is your favorite, they all ask? They’re all so good they say hi!
Pets! What time is it? How long has it been? Bubbles and ripples… convalesce… evanesce. Pet, why dust? Let worker ants push from ocean’s floor… —…—… one day the angler fishes’ third eye breaks upon surfacing too quickly. Immerse Cunningham.
LOOSE DIAMONDS In an abasement of contrails and right-angled houndstooth, a panoply of haut-bas sutras loose 20th. Found in home furnishings, hate the door itself, then, COME IN! Cartwheel plexi-Bravia tango lightning shards skatejaculates left, oil spill pipeline spin cycle fudges right, cube gleaned. Phantom twin. Go theme! 45 degree world x S.F. Theibaud-land washed lavender grey, barely holding hardening coal for aerial parking pre-Coit buttress. Fog-dock-fog, triple red beams. Cardboardy steam-rolled cuboidism rice shower. Beige/grey push-pull sweet hostel diptych with the ball-sac Bacon bulb from the logshoreman’s Tenderloin he dared not. Finally, Paloma Ikea meat rocker. No assembly required other than 4 years. Guy Lombard, I see the powder blue push pink. And it is pulled, too.
-by Sean Smuda who is making a book right now-
There is a liminal space nestled somewhere between apathy and empathy, between youth and age that allows time to compress itself in such a way where I truly believe you can live a year in a day, or a month in a minute. If you can’t be the room; let me at least show you the room. Let’s make room for the room; let the room show itself.
We often take pictures so we can look at them later, preferring nostalgia for lived experience. Photographs allow us a type of safe, neutral distance that falling down in front of someone simply does not afford. Nostalgia, as I understand it, is a mix of pain and the notion of “home” and the only antidote is a combination of wanderthurst and a brutal attitude about the importance of the preservation and exalting of the present moment in an effort towards the dissolution of the ties between action and the production of meaning.
I felt that Temporary Action Theory succeeded in highlighting the ultimate vanity of the impossibility of truly accepting things for what they are. Life can be painful and also boring. To reach people, you have to put something on the line. You show others that you are vulnerable and that you don’t have any answers, but rather the unquenchable desire to continue to ask questions. You show others that it is possible to give and expect nothing in return. You show others that you might not know exactly know what to do or how to behave with a seven foot tall emerald eight. You show others that you are not afraid to tear up space and put old beliefs behind you, even if you stood by them firmly. The bravery it takes to admit that you have no idea what to do and you are willing to embarrass yourself to prove it.
I believe this to be a crucial aspect of generative and affective works, aided by the blend of compassion, empathy, and not taking your-self too seriously. One must not pay too much creed to the image you wish others had of you. Life, as it seems, might be about truly coming to terms with who you are , and what you have to offer. This allows you to produce images and experiences for others that they couldn’t possibly be prepared for, as opposed to making works that merely reek derivatively.
Typically, we commit to actions that we think will be a catalyst for change. But other times we simply act, and certainly incorrectly, because we all constantly repress so much that sometimes you need to sing to a brick wall. And then scream at the wall. And then destroy the wall. When we entrench ourselves in only our personal emotional survival, at a certain point, we become accomplice to the larger problems in the sense that we become bound to our egos and unable to see the forest for the trees. If you never worry about having a forest however, and marvel instead at the glory of just one tree, objectively, who knows, you might be able to hear it when it falls, especially if no one else is around.
-Katelyn Farstad’s response to Sean Smuda’s response to Laurie Van Wieren’s performance “Temporary Action Theory”. “T.A.T.” was performed twice in one night in November 2016 and included design and live music performance by K.F. H+N feted the wonder of this performance with an artist talk in December 2016