Metamorphine Machine Furiosa XXX’s Psyche Pictorial Part IV
Relatory Bogotá
Bodies containing Fireflies that wander through the nocturnal jungle, emitting calls and small sparks of light for courting and to find copulation. They remind us that in the jungle there are no limits or borders. Migrating, as many do out of necessity, or as a virus does from one body into another, is a fluid process. The spectator is invited to use the space to take a break, breathe, and rethink of him/herself as an individual body, and as a gear in a collective body in constant movement. In AIDS and Its Metaphors (1987), Susan Sontag proposes a relationship with illnesses that is not of pity. Instead, she suggests approaching the illness by recognizing it as being a fundamental part of living organisms. Sontag’s intake emphasizes the necessity of confronting the illness with compassion, which implies understanding what happens to the other as if it was happening to yourself. In Survival of the Fireflies (1992), Georges Didi-Huberman proposes these light bugs as being metaphors of resilience, especially during convoluted political moments. These are some reflections that have opened up in the Luciérnagas lab of research and creation.
Read Morenotes on starfucking (v.1, not to be confused with 'resource fucking')
I do luv this term: starfucking …. star (*) fucking. While it is not used (as such) it is something that is present in the Sontag biography I read. Like people considered whether she liked to know famous people. I was once at a church party with Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams, and to explain it further would be inconsequential. Conditionally, I like to know famous people. I would say. Edmund White’s hand on my leg, but that won’t work for showing pure happenstance. A chance encounter with Kele Okereke on the LES, but I think I was considering straight fucking on that occasion. But my ex showed up and blew the scene. However, when I consider the ‘starfucking’ as I’ve heard it bandied about, I’ve decided its not necessarily a sexual thang. Once at the Tennessee Walking Horse Celebration in Shelbyville (TN), I decided to pass by Zsa Zsa Gabor’s box seat and casually ask her for an autograph. She declined. Queen. It’s ok because I got out of it what I wanted. I wanted to be close to her. I don’t know why a 14 year old gay kid wants that, but I did. In fact she obliged what I really wanted with a lick of rudeness in her curt refusal.
Read MoreTHE MORNING
This sorrowdoes not belong to you it belongs to the air that evaporates to the light that shatters like glass You take to the street with the crossbow tensed against the chiaroscuro of the city beautifully wounded Running across the streets until the entire city disappears under your steps only shadows left And to the east the sea unattainable the rumour the tide the dark that murmurs the moon has fallen into the water Running through the night void of dreams looking for me on empty train platforms boats departing You run without finding me there is no one there except one man one man every man Walking raining the night settles into his eyes on his back he carries an entire village while in his hands bloom flowers fish He hides crouching down behind park trees waiting for infinity to open He sleeps surrounded by the echo of birds and sirens his boots covered in star dust And the visible resignation of those who have walked across constellations You run without finding me there is no one there except one man one man every man You want to cry with him for the newborns and bid farewell with laughter to the dead You want to remember every stone with your fingers and see the light nesting over the buildings I am sitting right here on the edge of the night contemplating that so other lost in the woods the brume It so happens that I believe in the clouds in their neatly written pages In the trees that carry a vessel in their womb sometimes I think I am a tree I see you running desolated among the men who sleep on the sidewalks like gardens drinking dew Exhausted you return home behind each door you open hides a moon The morning is an illegal child innocent who runs seduced by the cold air that lacerates the skin And quietly with the fallen night makes a star While you fall defeated over deserted sheets beside you lies down an adolescent wind just about to beget birds The astral solitude that you inhabit does not belong to you it belongs to me And even if my language is rain and your voice a river that carries the drowned we will trust one another like a child trusts another child and let go Anyone can grab the dawn but I improvising riding this poem bareback I can set the world on fire and reinvent it with words Under the bed I leave you my heart so that in it you may plough look for treasures bury your dead
‘People in Trouble’ at Thirty: On Realism, Trump, and the AIDS Cataclysm
Thirty years after its completion, my novel People in Trouble has taken on resonance far beyond my original passions and intention. Its most notorious cultural eruptions: the uncredited derivations of the novel into the musical Rent, and the premonitional nightmare of Donald Trump as a world “leader”–are filled with meaning and have been fodder for speculation. Yet these later manifestations stray far from the originating emotions, influences and open-hearted vulnerabilities that led me to write it in the first place.
Read More
Relatoría Sesión #6 – Disidencia Sonora
Laboratorio Luciérnagas
Relatoría 24 Agosto
sesión #6
disidencia sonora
artista invitado: Mauricio Rivera Henao
lugar: Adorno – Liberia
Relatoría:
Mauricio Rivera es artista sonoro, también trabaja con video e instalaciones. Tiene una pregunta constante por el territorio.
Disidencia = contra hegemónico
Obra: un diálogo con el lago Titicaca
Paisaje sonoro: retratar los paisajes en término sonoros. Volver plástica la materia sonora. Habla de tener conversaciones con insectos o minerales como gesto contra hegemónico ( disidente ).
Read MoreRelatoría Sesión #7 – Cuerpos Fluidos
Laboratorio Luciérnagas
Relatoría 7 septiembre
sesión #7
cuerpos fluidos
artista invitado: Juan Manuel Mosquera
lugar: Jardín Botánico de Bogotá
Taller
Exploración de las posibilidades expresivas del cuerpo a partir de un reconocimiento y una apertura del espacio sensible.
Actividades
Reconocer y explorar las tres llaves del espacio sensible: el peso del cuerpo, sentir y hacer consciente la respiración y permitir la consciencia del cuerpo en su totalidad (sentir su totalidad en el momento presente.
Ejercicios de composición instantánea: sentir y escuchar mi movimiento y el movimiento de los otros cuerpos en el espacio. Esta idea se exploró a través del ejercicio “eje” un trabajo en parejas y grupal al mismo tiempo que busca la escucha y la coordinación permitiendo una composición coreográfica. Ejercicios de contacto: reconocer el movimiento a través del contacto con otro cuerpo, se invitó a los participantes a desarrollar pautas de consciencia y descubrimiento del movimiento a través de entrar en contacto con otro cuerpo, la potencia expresiva del toque, del masaje y del movimiento en contacto a través del espacio.