AG2023_1045253a or distinct, sharp, and wirey

AG2023_1045253a

“the abdication of possibilities can furnish us with equanimity just as it can furnish us with art.”

“good author of good utopias,” writes Reinhart Kosselleck, “evidently has very little desire to be a utopian.”

“That the more distinct, sharp, and wirey the bounding line, the more perfect the work of art; and the less keen and sharp, the greater is the evidence of weak imitation, plagiarism, and bungling.” (AN)

The great and golden rule of art, as well as of life, is this: That the more distinct, sharp, and wirey the bounding line, the more perfect the work of art; and the less keen and sharp, the greater is the evidence of weak imitation, plagiarism, and bungling…. What is it that builds a house and plants a garden, but the definite and determinate? What is it that distinguishes honesty from knavery, but the hard and wirey line of rectitude and certainty in the actions and intentions. Leave out this line and you leave out life itself; all is chaos again, and the line of the almighty must be drawn out upon it before man and beast can exist.

William Blake

AG2023_1033856a or a kamal and Polaris guide the redress

AG2023_1033856a

Untitled (Field Guide–exposure to enchanted forms; a kamal and Polaris creating possibility), 2023. Graphite, gouache, cut vinyl, enamel paint, colored pencil, and collage on a Xerox Versant 80 print on Mohawk Superfine paper. 18.25 x 12 inches.

A “kamal is one of the earliest navigational tools that used measuring altitude to determine latitude. The word kamal means “guide” in Arabic. […] Essentially, a kamal is a flat piece of wood with a string attached to the middle. The kamal uses the position of Polaris (the North Star) in the sky to help a sailor determine his latitude.”


The North Star, newspaper founded and edited by Frederick Douglass.

“…that the man who has suffered the wrong is the man to demand redress,—that the man STRUCK is the man to CRY OUT—and that he who has endured the cruel pangs of Slavery is the man to advocate Liberty.”


“The stars are pinned between the leaves
of the trees, and love is only a harbinger,

signposts pointing the way
in and out

Cynthia Zarin, Field Guide


The Point of Precision by Kathleen Stewart, 2016. This essay proposes a kind of critique aimed at approaching the improvisatory conceptuality of ordinary forms emergent in everyday life. Using a slowed ethnographic attention to the immanent aesthetics of objects, it argues that the singularities through which forms take place animate both event and perception.

AG2023_2080754a or palm metonymy

AG2023_2080754a

“…this
is your moment–the one
you’ll remember (the hot breath
of August breeze, the sun
white in the sky, the trickle of sweat
on his neck
[…]
Remember this is how the small survive”

Laura Kasischke, Palm


“Swords and Friendship the card says.
Monday your lucky day, seven is rare.

You will encounter a great, lasing friendship.
The future beckons; your loves will prosper”

John Waller, Hyeres Les Palmiers


“The palm … is the show’s leitmotif: “a symbol of wealth, elegance, fertility, exoticism, and order,” Yto Barrada (Bindoun). Palm Project Manifesto (L’appartement 22).

ex2013ct_ins_009
Cinematheque Tangier, November 21, 2013 – May 18, 2014, Walker Art Center.

Am I a fraud?

One of the complications of managing decline was nostalgia … this self-deceiving mood

Only children think one person can ever wholly save another.

… and perhaps, in some imagined utopia, … she could be met on even, common ground with a clever soul

So much of life is delusion.

– (ZS)

Trying to Love the Whole World

I Am Trying to Love the Whole World

is such a public display of affection, a flex even,

one the lone magpie staring back from the backside

of a badly shorn sheep finds suspect. I flap my arms

& blink three times. Bad luck to glimpse just one.

Magpie being the only creature rumored to have

refused the ark, preferring to perch high on the mast

& curse the rain. I too keep rewinding this mixtape

of the plague years until I can hear it snap like a tendon

or a tent pole. The world stays busy out there, hammering

itself into softer ground with a flat rock & yet, the sound

of wind softly shaking the stars awake. My world

I have missed your mouth, your morning

breath coming round the wild garlic, your fat

lilacs forgetting to be the flower of death.

– Jenny Brown, I Am Trying to Love the Whole World


Nothing today hasn’t happened before: 
I woke alone, bundled the old dog
into his early winter coat, watered him, 
fed him, left him to his cage for the day 
closing just now. My eye drifts 
to the buff belly of a hawk wheeling, 
as they do, in a late fall light that melts 
against the turning oak and smelts 
its leaves bronze. 
                             Before you left, 
I bent to my task, fixed in my mind
the slopes and planes of your face; 
fitted, in some essential geography,
your belly’s stretch and collapse 
against my own, your scent familiar 
as a thousand evenings. 
                                       Another time, 
I might have dismissed as hunger 
this cataloguing, this fitting, this fixing, 
but today I crest the hill, secure in the company 
of my longing. What binds us, stretches:
a tautness I’ve missed as a sapling, 
supple, misses the wind.

– Donika Kelly, I love you. I miss you. Please get out of my house.


we are carried. 
in bellies. in arms. 
in love. in hope. 
in caskets. in urns. 
in grief. in memories. 
our whole lives 
and into the next 
we are carried

Sara Ria via IG