Author: dig

inarticulate thoughts in physical lawlessness

dig
PXL_20250731_000759311
PXL_20250731_000759311

via revue indigene.

Artist Opportunity Database via Fractured Atlas

The friend is indefinite.

[…]

You tell the friend the best things

you can imagine, and every single one of them has

already happened, so you recount them

of great necessity with nostalgic, atomic ferocity,

and one by one by one until many. The eggbirds whistle

the gargantuan trees. The noiserocks fall twisted

into each other’s dreams, their colorful paratrooping,

their skinny dark jeans, little black walnuts

to the surface of this earth. You and the friend

remain twisted together, thinking your simultaneous

and inarticulate thoughts in physical lawlessness,

in chemical awkwardness. It is too much

to be so many different things at once.

The Friend, Matt Hart

AG2005-DSCF2529

dig
AG2005-DSCF2529

I’ve also yearned for what Virginia Woolf describes in her novel “Jacob’s Room” as the “spiritual suppleness” of the kind of intimacy in which “mind prints upon mind indelibly.” That was what I saw in those Penn photographs, and what I saw in recent months, too, in a number of shows, in which artists seemed to be exploring the smaller worlds found in rooms. It started in the late spring, with Sanya Kantarovsky’s (now closed) show “Scarecrow,” at Michael Werner.

Worlds in Rooms, Hilton Als. New Yorker, July 29, 2025.

Peter Piller. Capitain Petzel.

The Singer is support, but he cannot shield

dig
PXL_20250724_225051968

The Singer is support, but he cannot shield,

But in another city, another valley, another ghetto, another slum, another favela, another township, another intifada, another war, another birth, somebody is singing Redemption Song, as if the Singer wrote it for no other reason but for this sufferah to sing, shout, whisper, weep, bawl, and scream right here, right now.

– Marlon James