Three of my paintings are included in a show called You are Here, currently on view at the Hewitt Gallery at Marymount Manhattan College in NYC. The show opens this Thursday, December 11, and continues through January 6. Details of each piece are shown here:
The first depicts an aerial view of New Orleans, after the flood. Collaged under the oil painting are black and white photographic images of the destruction. It is entitled Into the waters they go, the wise and the lovely, after an Edna St. Vincent Millay poem, Dirge Without Music. See NYTimes article that inspired this title.
The next two paintings are part of an ongoing series of large-scale works depicting historically/politically weighted cities, superimposed on one another on the same picture plane. I have cut into these canvases to stuff and sew sheer pockets of fabric with seeds and other organic forms, as a way of marking significant points on these maps where the course of history has changed. Locations I have marked within Seeds of Empire (Rome/D.C.) include the US Capitol Building, the White House, the Forum and the Coliseum. Locations in He turned their waters into blood (Tigris/Mississippi) include the Iraqi National Museum, the Iraqi Ministry of Defense, the Superdome and the Lower Ninth Ward. See painting/map key here.
I suppose I never thought that one day I would actually be older than Jesus ever was when he walked the earth. Age shouldn't mean a single thing when considered against the backdrop of the ever-widening trajectory of all time and space. But the symbolic age of 33 will haunt me from now till I reach the eternal space, as I today I have moved past it. As Sean reminded me, the "Death Threat"/Jesus Year Birthday Card, is still appropriate (an image of a black cross, presented through the mail to him on his 33rd birthday, from the monks of Portsmouth Abbey, where he spent several years when half that sacred age). But isn't every age we all experience sacred? Who am I to have dwelt on 27, because of all the musical geniuses who left us at that age, and who am I to compare myself to the Son of Man, who spent thirty-three years in a physical body, to teach us how to love? It's a stretch.
I am finishing up a body of 33 small paintings, done over the course of this past year, which taken altogether was a extraordinary one. From the land of the rising sun to the ninth ward, from a spiritual shipwreck to the conception of a new life, this year was good, so good, more than good, and I'm praying to hold onto the threads of it and to weave them like seeds of life and light, into the fabric of the next. The one that starts today.
Little Creatures is coming onto the scene with its first HD short film, featuring six children from the Broken Land. It will be a mystery, shot on location at the crumbling waterfront spaces of Red Hook, and, if fate will have it, the Navy Yard's Hospital Campus. This is the first time I will be working with a crew, and I'm very excited to be collaborating with Damaris Cozza (assistant director/co-producer), Roman Jaquez (DP), Sean Eno (Super 8), Henri Falconi (1st AD, 2nd Camera) and Sarah Hoit (costumes...additional designs by Kathy Malone of Fofolle and Elisha Georgiou). Here are images of what is to come:
And an excerpt from the story. . .
Three children are walking along the crumbling shoreline of Brooklyn and stumble upon a pile of detritus from what appears to be a shipwreck. Elements of a ship are interspersed in a pile in which a waterlogged violin in a weathered case, a barely-working music box in the form of a bird in its cage, a cracked magnifying glass, several ancient rusty keys, many water-damaged family photographs, and an old, crushed suitcase, are also strewn. . .
Inside Sophia’s drum is a tiny bird’s nest, which she tends to every few minutes. Anastasia carries a purse, inside of which are some stones and a folded up letter, discolored with age. Milo’s camera takes note of various unusual details--cracks in the ground and in buildings, plants growing from cracks, urban detritus strewn about, and the haunting specter of the post-industrial landscape around him. . .
Heaven tries the last rusty key in the lock and it finally opens, creaking. She and her friends step inside. They venture forth into a darkened room and follow the only light that emanates from a flickering film, projected into the back wall of a cabinet that has been propped open, the door unevenly teetering on falling off. . .
Once finished, Spirit Ship (working title) will function as Little Creatures' prototype/proof-of-concept, a piece that will appeal to potential investors. . . a tangible, beautiful, poetic, mysterious product that will win funders over to a vibrant new film company that produces a completely new kind of media by and for young children.
