Feb 12, 2014
One of the things I was rendering in an 1800 square foot studio was how to think about what it meant to be cast into/as the role of the object by pushing an actual object, but was this object myself when I escaped its weight? Let it go. It sometimes fell. Sometimes, I ignored it. I was fearful it would crack open my head. In dancing with it, I forced myself to move at, into the object of my disdain, and/or/and/with the feeling of being pushed away by my own force. But to slide with the object, to avoid being splintered by the object, to force myself to not be wounded by the object, to spar with the object, to run with another object in mind, to swim in the ocean with the object in mind, I had to forget about the object. I am ready to talk, but I am unable to carefully think outside of the landscape, the sea, my sprinting on the flat shore. Does this make sense? I wanted to get to know the layers of how I am entertaining the object through another modality of feeling and touch, and I realize that working in video and editing in an application’s time and space does alter the music of language. The space of the body moving with the object encounters race, the radicalized body, the suspect body, the fat body, the loved body, and, of course, desire. I don't care if this makes sense, at least the kind I am used to. I was so happily mad. Who can afford it, anyway? To be so digital. I can, and am taking advantage. My Ad. This piece is and isn’t necessarily about rendering this feeling, but by parsing out various modes of feeling through editing, not the line in that white space but this one, when the torso comes out of one surface, cut, to the next, all in motion, spun, mine, not yours—there is something else that I am feeling and working toward—I am letting go of having to clarify to the reader what the scene/seen or, for that matter, the sea implicitly enacts, or the mist, the threat of shark or comment, something related to the making of the poem, in this way, but I want to keep making more of what is pushing me, a force Let's say it's this, before I return to what I have to do before I phone someone else up about coming.