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(no subject)

Joseph talk ISCP:

Curating like photography in that it carries a lot of baggage in terms of ethnography.

Curation mirrors a lot of Colonial practices. When you are done you are creating an environment for another person to move through.


Throat microphone



By Chloe flatiron and soho

kale Caesar salad !!


I'm dead, now what book

Crumb vacuum

Harriet carter catalog



Most peculiar face. Like a child supple lips and big eyes but large hands like an adult. Like a twelve year old child. Gray hairs framing the face roots showing rest dyed with henna. One hand w long false nails, red, a band aid covering the fourth fingernail.

Tee shirt w pink camo and a big false diamond costumey watch other hand nails kept impeccably well, not false.

Large bag typical of 80's fashion but looking brand new one hand (left) looked skinnier and much older, another one more like mine. Aged but still with a bit of fat

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Class  matters

Yellow sun - Nigerian civil

We socialist realist

hamilton book and face wax strips

electrolyte drinks deleuze widely armed citizenry







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Haven’t done it in a while but on the phone I think I just used the Notes program that comes with Apple.  It’s just like messages or email, when the keyboard comes up you press the microphone button and start talking.  If you are on Macbook then you can set up dictation in system preferences > dictation and speech, and use it on Word or wherever, instead of typing.





Video Transfers

Color lab - expensive but good quality
Dijify not as good quality but deals on family video


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Cable management


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Lot's Wife


July 3

Three years ago in late April I fell ill with a mysterious illness that affected everything from my ability stand and walk, to my ability to think, speak, read and process language. What I thought to be my self...the fundamental structures of my everyday life, my identity, quickly fell apart. Important supports stayed. Namely the family and friends who kept me afloat, lifting my body (literally) and spirits, kept me fed and watered, clean. Basic things that allow you to feel safe, to feel human. People came out of the woodwork. Some relationships evaporated, others grew stronger, others emerged.


People say this thing that maybe I used to believe, but has always sort of frustrated me. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I now

Strongly beg to differ. What doesn't kill you might almost kill you. And it will usually change you. What almost killed me most certainly changed me, and often I wonder whether it was for the better.


Three years ago at some point during the illness I went to Pittsburgh to deal with my stuff, and to say good bye, perhaps forever. What many doctors thought would be a short virus (or depression, tell me, have you been feeling down?) dragged on and on. I needed to get ready to go to grad school. Not going was not an option. So me and my IV and refrigerated meds and wheelchair went to JFK and took a flight, alone. A nice man from Somalia helped me on the New York end. I hadn't remembered cash to tip, so I gave him my metro card hoping it wouldn't insult him.


People treat you nicely when you have a physical sign of disability that can be processed. Crutches, a wheelchair, an IV, old age, a cane -- they do a lot of talking for you, and because illness and disability is so heavily stigmatized in this country, nobody will ask you what happened. They just make niceties and say "get better soon!" It's when your disability turns invisible that you start having to deal with people who call you a bitch because

you can only cross the street so fast, and because, after all, every other signifier of your existence points to your privilege. Or when they say that you're imagining things, because, after all, you are a young woman.


The world is really different in a wheelchair. People don't make eye contact with you, they talk at you and not to you. They forget you are there. It's a funny series of distinctions, but it makes you feel definitively on another plane. My particular experience of illness was so oddly specific and varied that I had the happy opportunity to "walk a mile in someone else's shoes," and then emerge. Symptoms of my illness were likened to having a stroke, congestive heart failure and early-onset dimentia simultaneously. But unlike all of those conditions, most of my symptoms were alleviated through treatment. (I still deal with autonomic neuropathy, the only prolonged, residing condition from the injuries my brain sustained during the infection.) This is all to say that it is a bit unusual (lucky?) to be able to experience that level of disability and then emerge relatively unscathed. I have no idea what it feels like to spend your life in a wheelchair, to have dimentia, a stroke, or congestive heart failure, in actuality. But I had a very, very small taste of those worlds, and it was no walk in the park.


Waiting for the plane, I noticed another person on this level, my level, a woman, my age, maybe a bit older, also in a wheelchair. Hers was custom and fancier than mine. I felt stupid immediately because she was clearly in this for the long haul. I had decided, and would spend the subsequent years of my life living that decision, throwing myself at it, that I would not be confined to a chair or a bed.


I didn't make eye contact with the woman, but she obviously noticed me too. We were wheeled onto the plane first, wheeled off last, and sat next to each other in a special seat. She was so good at maneuvering her chair. She could do it one-handed, back up, parallel park, the works. I felt so clumsy in comparison.


Since we were next to each other in the empty plane, we introduced ourselves. She was really pretty, chestnut skin and long, wavy hair; smiled a lot. We got to talking and eventually we got to the old jailhouse jabber, "'d you end up here?" I answered, told her actually how hard I had to think just to understand her. And how slowly I was speaking wasn't how I usually spoke. "But I'm gonna get better," I said for myself as much as her. "How about you?" I asked, feeling now that I had revealed an adequate amount of personal details of my own to venture the question. "I got shot," she said matter-of-factly. She smiled and shrugged. "Oh." I nodded, trying hard to maintain a neutral facial expression so as not to reflect my shock and the idiocy I felt for having f*#!ing pried, then added, matching her matter-of-factness, "What was that like?" Shut up shut up shut uuuuuup.


She was on a date, maybe a first or second date. She and this guy hardly knew and she were at an old-fashioned diner on swivel stools at the counter. It was daytime. She swiveled her legs towards him as they spoke. They say the position of people's legs show how they are inclined towards somebody. Towards is a good thing. Then a man drove by in a car and fired through the diner window. Because she was higher, and facing sideways, a bullet, intended for another, hit her near her waist, traveling through both of her kidneys, her liver, her stomach and her spine. Had she not liked the guy so well, had she been trying to get the waitress's attention, had she

gone to the restroom a bit later, she might have been missed, or at least just lost a kidney. "Classic wrong-place-wrong-time scenario," she offered, as I was now certainly giving her the face that made me cringe when other people gave it to me. The face that says, "holy sh*t that is so f*#!ed, that's the worst thing I have ever heard ever, I feel awful. I can't imagine [how messed up your life is]."


I was silent for a while. I was done asking stuff, also I was tired of thinking (that happened a lot). Finally, I said, "And you lived." She smiled and nodded, "While I was lying on my back on the floor, bleeding out, I realized I couldn't feel my legs. I realized that I could die if I wanted to. It was the strangest feeling. Then I thought about the things that I loved doing. I loved dancing to music, seeing my family, eating and going out with my friends. I realized I could do all of those things without my legs. So I decided to live."


I understood this feeling, this act of refusal is a real thing, choosing to keep on is a choice.  I told her they didn't know if I'd ever fully recover, if I'd ever be functional again, get my memory back, learn the same way. She gave me the face I gave her five minutes before. "I can deal with this paralysis stuff, but I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't read or think straight." I shrugged and smiled, "It's not that bad when you're in it, I guess. You just have to deal with it, and make a choice that you're not gonna be the sad story."


A friend who'd broken his back in an accident had been told he'd never walk again. In the hospital for over a year, he decided that he had more to do, and decided that he would walk again. And he did. He admitted to me once that he was in more pain than most people would ever know or be able to tolerate, but that he got used to it. And that he had made a choice to keep going, to stay positive and win.


He told me, as did the woman on the plane, that sometimes our minds can make the difference when the slightest push in either direction could have very different consequences. I believe this so deeply. If we let it, love and life can win. If we let it, fear and sadness and death can win.


I kept this in mind as I dipped into and out of my illness for months and then years. The psychological negotiation often was as much of a contender as my physical symptoms.


Three years ago today I was released from the ICU. I wasn't able to walk, had an IV hooked up to my arm, had difficulty doing pretty much everything. I remember it was late evening on July 3rd, and in retrospect there was some poetry on being released on the cusp of Independence Day. My brother and his boyfriend went into the front yard and kit some fireworks. I watched through the window. Home was starkly quieter than the ICU. For days a patient across the hall had been screaming "Help me, help me, help me" nonstop. They'd brought me earplugs. My heart went out to this person. And I wondered whether they could know that I was trying to love them, as best I could, from across the hall.


As we sickle over our phones, scrolling for the latest great tragedy, new lists of victims of bullets and bomb feels easy to feed into feelings of hate and helplessness and despair. "The world is falling apart," etc. But -- I do feel like we have a choice in all of this. I think our current political moment is emblematic of this choice. There are people out there who want us to go deeper into our fears, who profit from it, who obtain power through it. An important person in my life once said to me, "Lies come in on wings, the truth on crutches. But truth does come."


As a person who is still learning about this country's fraught histories, I'm somewhat ambivalent about Independence Day. In the wake of so much violence, I am also trying to learn more about my own nationalism and the role it plays in my understanding of the world and my own identity. However, I do think this day offers us an opportunity for reflection.

What are the forces that colonize our lives, our minds, and how can we declare our own independence? How, if at all, can we find the structures that last (friends, family, beauty, love, grace)? We can choose love in this world. Find it. Divine it from the air. We can choose to live a full life no matter what is thrown our way, to make each day beautiful, even when it is consumingly ugly. Love is waiting for us if we choose it. It's there, everywhere, though it may not seem obvious. But, wherever it is (even on crutches), it is very, very strong, so true. And I'm not saying it's easy, I still sometimes find myself crouching towards cynicism. Because it's so, so easy...


Anyway. I'm not sure how to close this, but happy 4th



Last word: who gets it in an email? Also this

Art-aids-america review


June 3

June 3

Bad episode

V woozy even when sitting up cold didn't help

Neck stiffness and pain at base of neck

Migrating headache (bursts of pain at temples)

Pressure on bridge of nose


June 4

Wooziness (better than yesterday) but cloudy headed

Nose pressure on bridge of the nose (on and off)

June 5

Nose pressure upon waking

Felt ok then bad after breakfast

Worse a couple hours after waking up

Neck ache and stiffness

More pronounced wooziness

5:18 Darien 5:42 rowayton


June 6 better less achey went to work felt dizzy

June 7 way worse in morning ended up leaving work early had trouble staying up in my chair 2:30 pm took car home and basically slept

June 8 slept til 1 pm. Decided to rest feel v woozy ESP as day goes on

June 9 hard time understanding people when speaking too tired to process language v dizzy


Dragon dictation

Eileen Miles


IKEA Aisle 7 bin 27...



Hate crimes are acts of terrorism. All crimes are hate crimes. If we could view them all as such... Without fomenting further aggressions towards [group of choice].


We do have an international terrorism problem. ISIS is a problem. We have a national terrorism problem. We do have an anti-Immigration problem. We do have a gun control problem. We do have a homophobia problem. We do have an islamophobia problem. Racism/fear of other undercurrent through all

That they see this first as a radical islamist terrorist attack means that homos are less the villain now?


Talk notes uniondocs steve warwick

Talk notes uniondocs steve warwick

Internet a frontier space for conspiracy theories - 90's

Clubs site of unprotected sex - AIDS - infection mimetic - pure and tainted ICE - oil - alien parasite - part of mythology arc


Maybe the image is of something else

Jimmy marble


Soundcloud: Ibraheem awadallah

Also: couture music

shoes maybe


Focus on finishing videos.

Then make a list for Home Depot

Re read Audre lorde in train.



a tempest by aime cesaire





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drone ex

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to do studio

- finish interview

- finish videos and upload greece video

- export horizon video - full

- export snippet of nomi video and of arnoldo video 30 sec each

- find RS full quality version for festival

- export nail video

- gnome

- screen space ideas

- i am not here - produce 72 new reasonsf

 - review proposal for Bedbugs piece, proposal to Puffin


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Atmospheric disturbances

Rebecca solnit


Ali darja touré and Ry cooder - good chill album Timbuktu

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"Desire to understand other people's desire" - AWW on Warhol

Condition of exile - opinions change about you instantly. 60 million refugees in the world 16-17 years -

We have to know it. We cannot not know it we are part of the crime. Obligation to speak up.

To be honest you have to see there. You have to be there.

Easily been involved very deeply

What does it mean to bear witness as an artist?

Vehicle for voice, vehicles for messaging.

Political situation as a readymade

Art is not problem less- creating problems. Creating new language about a new condition

Something beyond our understanding.

Trying to get into something you are not familiar with

Invite people to join the discussion to realize those conditions

Radical gestures


How to give voice to those who have none

Take anomalies of society and make the paradigm

Social media --

Why Instagram - Warhol progenitor of social media

Efficient - intimate - democratic landscape

Ethos of Warhol - democratizing images art - take on language or democratizing information, followers

How to get people excited about political messages?

Political beauty - flowers and photographs

Horrific notion - put beauty in its place

Surveillance control -

To show your existence - presence - to function as normal. Bring common beauty in the life. Not become a radical.

 Humanity - finding humanity.

diversity group blurb

The goal of this conversation is to continue and expand the discussion surrounding the recent events at Yale. We ask that you come prepared having read the email from Erika Christakis, the open letter response, and the Next Yale demands. Additionally, we are providing supplementary material to help guide the conversation. This reading group is open to everyone.

interactions make their mark

"Each and every one of us is a living assemblage of every embrace, every conversation, every argument, every meal shared, every laugh had. Every interaction with a person, a place, an animal, or any being. And each of us leaves a trace on others. Keep this in your mind – we make and remake the social world with our every interaction. Try to be present in the fact that although no minute will ever come again, never in all the world, that perhaps that minute becomes us and we are a living memorial to it." -Paige West

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"Fox-wild, desire

is a trap. I recognize

places I've slept


despite every branch broken

and the new snow.

What I said before, about love,

you have to let it be.


I've never told

how I walk around thinking

of the hollow of a throat or curve

of a shoulder or how I hold the reins

of horses who are men in hiding" -Gretchen Marquette



i'm afraid of death

Essex HemphillIMG_7068.PNG


Red X

Lights for space poly rope


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possible 4 spring

rose day 1


Roach poem from               facebook


A love poem about killing a roach. This is the real thing. Angel Nafis


"Because the roach had wings and tore thru our crib like a landlord or


ghost and you screamed first even though i saw it first heading for the


light and it hid behind the white curtain or it colonized the whole window


and promised to never die and because it’s been nearly five years of my


mouth on your mouth and your mouth and your mouth i knew what i hafta

do so" . . .

on falling


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Dr.                    call and ask about co-pay

call united and ask about insurance in september.

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Annie's Dessert

I'm a chocolate cupcake with peanut butter icing, specifically made from Georgetown cupcakes. The cake itself is small. It is sweet and moist and leaves you craving some more. It's not too sweet that you can't fathom finishing it. It's just a perfect balance of a sweeter cake and a more bitter chocolate icing filling. The icing is smooth and cuts the sweetness of the cake. It's made from peanuts so it's not even that unhealthy. It's not too flashy. Nothing extravagant on the top just a small garnish that depends on the holiday.

It can stand alone or you can buy it with a dozen other cupcakes. You can have it as a snack or a main desert, cupcakes are always there for you. Nothing too special that you can't have it on a typical day, it is reliable. But it's not out of place in a fancier setting. So just kinda perfect any time any place for anyone. Unless they're not feeling it in which case they're absolutely insane.

Francine Conley

Who Are You?

I am in something like sleep   

inside a borrowed room

and I wake to a field

outside my window

where a horse appears

grazing on prairie grass,

brown muscles


in spools of sun.

He doesn't notice me   

as he moves,

hooves hesitating

on an uneven ground,

tearing grasses with his lips

and folding them into

his mouth, chewing

every blade to mush,

and swallowing.

I am present

in such moving things:

in two swallows flying above

and around the horse:

in the sky’s spoil

of clouds.  Then,

briefly blinded

by the sun I look

and the horse

is gone. I do not love

my loneliness.

Forget who

I am: what I've

always wanted:

to discard

and diminish

the past—to be



RIP Adrienne Rich.

Here's one of my favorite poems in the world. I saw her read this a long time ago and, as the words left her mouth, they stitched themselves into my soul and became forever a part of me.

Thank you for living, for being so angry, so fearless, so inspirational, for diving into the wreck of your life, and ours.


From a Survivor

(by Adrienne Rich)


The pact that we made was the ordinary pact

of men & women in those days


I don't know who we thought we were

that our personalities

could resist the failures of the race


Lucky or unlucky, we didn't know

the race had failures of that order

and that we were going to share them


Like everybody else, we thought of ourselves as special


Your body is as vivid to me

as it ever was: even more


since my feeling for it is clearer:

I know what it could and could not do


it is no longer

the body of a god

or anything with power over my life


Next year it would have been 20 years

and you are wastefully dead

who might have made the leap

we talked, too late, of making


which I live now

not as a leap

but a succession of brief, amazing movements


each one making possible the next

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Saturday/Sunday afternoons (mostly in bathroom.

Monday, Feb 29, 6 -8 pm

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Can Architects Come Up With a Better Border?:


The Fine Art of Gentrification


Mostly I want to be letters


"Mostly I want to be letters—not


their sounds, but their shapes

on a page. It must be exhilarating


to be a symbol for everything at once:

the bone caught in a child’s windpipe,


the venom hiding in a snake’s jaw." Kaveh Akbar

toddler balancing on ledge

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Homeostasis - Andrea Witzke Slot




     Regulate me,

stabilize me,

    give me the hailing path

rising toward horizon’s storm.

       After all,

                 we do not draw

back our axes in isolation,

               for, if we do,

      death is the only certainty—​​

          and not

the kind of death you think I mean:

                             not a woman tripping into

       the car-filled street, a man murdered by a liver

 punch he didn’t see

       coming, a boy falling into a well.



           hypothesized that a static, unchanged state

                      was not a natural human condition,

                 a condition in which we could live communally,

                                                    die communally.

    (The ability to undergo constant change is intrinsic

to all things, in all things.)


                       And Empedocles? All matter

is divined of elements

          that are in dynamic alliance

                      or opposition to one another.


The or is essential to your understanding.


   And so it is for ships

            to sail, bicycles to move,

birds to fly, people to breathe or walk

                   or love or live. Just a physiological

phenomenon that leads

    to the rare: the moment in which we are alone and not, moving and still,

               where we settle into the storm’s eye,

that place where worries and cellphones are silenced and tucked away into pockets:


                     a train window by which we sit and watch the world and all its loved ones rush pass—

(no subject)

Dear Lizzy,

This is you. At 2:57 pm and counting on Friday, February 26, 2016. You are frustrated. And sad (still) about this girl who for no apparent reason just totally ditched you. The funny thing was that she kind of led you to believe otherwise, all while you were having really great conversations about a whole range of things.


In a few days, you will feel better, in a few months, it will seem so distant, and in a few years you may have already forgotten about this whole thing. But right now it really sucks.


It mostly sucks because you had sort of convinced yourself that it was impossible to have the kind of intellectual intimacy with somebody that you had with XXXXXXXXX. Although you had for several months tried at being friends, XXXXXXXXX expressed her feelings for you a few weeks ago, and threw you off kilter again when she said she'd never talk with you again, and then of course texted the next day. This spurred what I think was an incredibly smart and brave thing to do, which was to tell her that you couldn't speak with her again. Of course, with this, the inevitable loneliness. You struggled for weeks with your work, trying to find the right words for it, and honing in on the images as friends tried to help but often floundered and confused your efforts. That was really hard.


And then, just two weeks before the show opened, you sort of accidentally got on Tinder and hit it off almost immediately with a girl who said - also pretty quickly - that she only wanted to only date you, that you were "really great," and that she felt like you were kindred spirits. She showed you something really important, which was that yes, you could find somebody who could be on par with you intellectually and like the kooky creative side too, and contribute to that, and be open to your insights. Her research and work was so interesting. It felt like it could really turn into love, and it might have already done so for you, you tend to make up your mind fast on matters of the heart. It felt special, pretty rare, even though she was an example of the possibility of finding somebody like her.


I don't know if you went wrong, if at all, or where. I'm not sure you did. You were yourself, messy, silly, generous, smart and stupid sometimes both. What was it that scared her away? You are thinking things like, "was it because i was too tall, or put on some weight" - that's residue from XXXXXXXXX who said he broke up with me because i was fat, and from frenemy XXXXXXXXX in high school who said nobody wanted to date you because you were too tall "an oaf" was how she put it. or was it because she didn't see how smart i was (an insecurity you recently realized was adopted from XXXXXXXXX who say "this might sound stupid" pretty much all the time), or maybe i moved too fast (society), or maybe my friends said something stupid at the opening (insecurities, also real possibility).


Hard to know, definitely not worth spending more time thinking about. You've spent a lot of time thinking about this, but now you realize that's because wrapped up in this is every doubt and insecurity that has ever been dished out to you...


You're not going to find a partner today. Today and yesterday you spent an obsessive amount of time on both tinder and respectively, even spent money you didn't have on a subscription to match, why, who knows. You clearly have tasted blood and want more (ha). Just -- listen -- don't get into a feeding frenzy. Take your friends' advice, take it slow, keep in touch. Not everything needs to happen now, even though from the bottom of your heart you want it to be over, and to start the real work, of maintaining a lasting relationship in time. But that's good work, feels less futile and exhausting.


You will get there, it is your job to surprise people, to singularly defy expectations. It's one of the things you do best. You have staged comeback after comeback. And it is your job to be stronger and better. Or at least try, always, to do your very best and to conquer your fears.


It's now 3:23 pm, and you've taken a long break to swipe about a million times on tinder. Maybe take a break? At least for a day. Maybe take a break from everything. Be XXXXXXXXX for a day. What would XXXXXXXXX say about this?


Just...pretend til it's ok again. And it will be, I promise. XXXXXXXXX happened in a matter of minutes, XXXXXXXXX happened at the turn of a corner, XXXXXXXXX happened over a winter break. People come into your life all the time, in so many different ways. That's such a cool thing. It's always when you least expect it that things like this come up. You've put yourself out there, put stuff out in the universe, lots and lots of good stuff. And... so try to be patient. Know that you are the type of person that will always work hard to get what they need, and seek it out in the most uncommon ways.


Let yourself have this week of yes, until you don't need it anymore. And allow yourself to just keep on keeping on. I believe in you.

xoxo Lizzy



This evening in Studio

- Write a check for Xxxxxxxxxxx

- Create a download link for Xxxxxxxxxxx's Piece

- Order from Echod Graphics - CAN mount on glass, so works.

- Finish Sound of nail video, create duplicate sequence. Start color correction.

- Maybe a little bit of yoga!  

Music listening look up

heavy flowers blaudzun

j mascis wide awake

phoria emanate

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Email andrew about tech requirements



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Emergency Blankets



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Choose better partners

When situations are abusive, know when that is and know how to get out

Illness and losing control of my body and fear of illness


Control, physical abuse

Handling sex / mental and physical strategies

Jan 8 2pm


Hmmmm, I do think you had a big influence on him at a time when he was struggling and trying to find his own way. I also think that because his work is so stage and performance orientated, it has a different kind of production value lure and attendance and engagement that's more tangible. ie XXXXXXX gets reserved seats to go sit in chairs before a stage-like ground and watch their XXXXXXX perform and then he gets a write up in the times and it's a signifier of success and something they can grasp. Whereas you are working a very different process of self discovery. Although I haven't seen the piece so maybe I'm being presumptuous but your work is more critical and self reflexive in comparison. And that shit takes time and often is a process that isn't announced or visible and whose successes aren't clearly outlined or identifiable to people who don't know much about the arts. In that sense, you're working a lonely path in which you only owe answers to yourself and ideally success is what your definition of that word and feeling is to you. In that way, I think XXXXXXX is much more of a crowd pleaser and his aesthetics aren't too hard to access or breakdown. His process is quicker and "cooler" that way. So there might be this tension you feel for a while and it's best to just let it go and not give it so much power. I don't think XXXXXXX, and I don't think it's helpful to nurture or host feelings of being used. I think this is just a moment where XXXXXXX and certain people who have always given subtle and not so subtle preferential treatment to XXXXXXX, are able to do that more so because of above mentioned reasons. Which sucks, yeah, but maybe thicken your skin and try not to compare your practices. And be prepared for these same people to not really necessarily understand when you do accomplish something that in your opinion is amazing and a big deal. Your work just doesn't function that way, and that's  what makes it harder and the rewards slower but also in my opinion what makes it so worthy a process to choose and so brilliant when it works.

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you will look at this and say i had black hair onceblackhair.JPG


notes from Dan meeting


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Number of People Registered:


Confirmation Number:

M6NTQH6LXSY  (needed to modify your registration)

Event Title:

Rockefeller Center Holiday Party


Rockefeller Center


50 Rockefeller Plaza


New York, New York


12/02/2015   Add to my calendar


6:00 PM


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"academia is death" - know too many artists that have gotten entangled in those bullshit politics - teach from time to time, but do not sign up


you only get one first show in new york, don't fuck it up. even if nobody goes or sees or is listening. don't do it if you aren't ready.


in a large space, it will be impossible to fill. sound is a good solution. sound and language -- see if you can get anything out of that -- steer clear of bruce nauman, revisit early steve reich.


keep gravitating back to the grandfather piece.


Keep on hustling, it's what you have to do. got to new york the first year and took on all these teaching jobs and then quit after a year. and they were mad.


"and don't get sick" - vitamins are a placebo.


Possible dates

three weekends - ? - starting either feb 5 to the 29 (4 weekends) -->

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reading light

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Joseph bio

Joseph Buckley (b. 1990, UK). Recent exhibitions include MOST LOATHED at 3401 Lee Street, Los Angeles, A SMALL GROUP SHOW OF AMERICAN AND BRITISH ARTISTS at SpaceSpace Gallery, Tokyo. Recent curation includes: PARTNERS at Lima Zulu, London, CONTEMPORARY FIGURATION at Udstillingstedet Q, Copenhagen, FUCK SAKE PART DEUX at Mexico Project space, Leeds. Forthcoming curation includes A BRITISH ART SHOW at Meyohas, NYC. In 2015 Buckley, alongside artist Liv Preston, assumed control of ALATENTO.COM, an online repository of artist PDFs. Buckley, who currently lives and works in NYC, holds a BA from Goldsmiths University in London and an MFA from the Sculpture Department of Yale School of Art

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Possible topics

Multiplicities (multiple identities, doubling)












The Grotesque


The Cinematic




The Future







Body-ness (The Black body, The “Female” Body, Able / Disabled bodies, the relevance of the body)


Kink (dom/sub, bondage, leather etc)






Contending with History



The distance between saying and meaning










Dream Language




Movements and their Impact on Art / Art and its impact on Movements (Black Lives Matter, Occupy)




Ethics in Art


Speaking to / For Others?

How to be an artist and not die of starvation


Strategizing an emergent career


Art & Service?


Art & the Market (the business of art)


Breaking In


Breaking Out


The “Art Bro” & other Artist Identity Tropes


Talking about Talking about Art

Using yourself in your artwork


Structuring an artistic identity


Insider / Outsider Game


Curation & the Market


Curation & Artistic Identity (Its formation, (de)stabilization, etc)


New York for artists now?


New York vs LA?






The Artist as Community

Catalyst / Community



Engaging with the Political


Political Change through Art

Spaces of Protest in Art



sliding doors

Panyl ikea



Description of a hospital wall

A more acidy beige (think pudding maybe) mounted to a warmer brown beige wall -- extends just beyond the length of the stretcher and twice as high, but not as tall as any standing or sitting human (made for people to get messy while lying down). A print that is a landscape, with blue matte, is mounted almost Dead center, 5" above.






Kazmi kuzu Islam


I had always been a fan of that light that only happens in early summer, around 6:45 at night, just before the sunset gets serious. That crisp, delicious gold that liquifies the pavement and illuminates the electric wires. It's very sultry, but with an energy that's exciting and comforting at once. Not as done up as sunset


But recently I've come to really love the pre-pre sunset light. It is whiter, more delicate somehow, diffuse and softer than full day light. But just as powerful to me emotionally as presunset. I find myself driving or sitting on the train just looking at it and it takes my breath away. Just now,  I was admiring this white light as it diffused through a layer of clouds. And I noticed that it was reflecting off of some neighboring clouds, making them appear very crisp, as if they'd been cut from parchment. And then as we rounded a corner I noticed a rainbow, but not a long skinny rainbow, a nimbussy rainbow, hovering just beyond the cut-paper white clouds and next to the diffused sexy white yellow light of the pre-pre-sunset sun behind a veil of clouds. Like that it was gone again, but boy do I feel lucky for seeing that. That's all.


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Moms side

Mom- VonWillibrands varient , HTN; Aunt- Scleroderma, RA, Sjogrens; Uncle- Hemochromatosis, Aunt- Autoimmune pancreatitis and thyroiditis. Her son has celiac disease.

Dad Type 1 diabetes (40yo); Stephen- HTN; Bob-Alopecia (Cause?)


Maternal grandmother (Nanny) - HTN, high cholesterol, Breast CA (postmenopausal, ER (+)), macular degeneration

Her Mother - Osteoporosis, Alcohol +, died in her sleep presumably a heart attack; Her father- Type 2 diabetes, died of a stroke at ~72

Her sisters- COPD (smoker), HTN, Thyroid, alcohol +, died of respiratory failure; CaCa - HTN, high cholesterol, macular degeneration, died of acute leukemia. Brother with Type 2 DM died of a stroke. Living brother is bipolar.


Cousin with antiphospholidid antibody syndrome (immune problem) and multiple miscarriages. Alcohol- cousins.


Maternal grandfather (Pop Pop)- Degenerative arthrtitis, Atrial Fibrillation, Gout, Alcohol +, colonic polyps.

His Mother had RA; His father had Alcohol + and died of colon cancer.

His siblings- 1 brother died of lung cancer in 40's. Another died of vascular disease in 60's- they both smoked a ton. 1 sister and brother living.


Paternal grandmother (Nonna)- HTN

Her 2 sisters (Elsie, Elda) and a brother had breast cancer. That brother was an alcoholic too.

Cousin with Tetralogy of Fallot (congenital heart defect) who died after heart transplant.


I do not know anything about  others on this side.

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Mysteries of structure

Mysteries of structure

Mysteries of the structure



Re becoming



Spray paint

Bake and carve arrowheads

Burn Dvd and test projector


Under table at a wedding

In the corner of the first floor closet

Had a sloping ceiling coats and shoes

Deeply, deeply safe.

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You say you like the way that I think but I'm confused because a lot of the time when I think out loud it feels like you don't. I think it's good to disagree and I don't take it personally, but I have had the feeling in the past that it is getting more personal.

What do you need from me?

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