Often the work is mutilated in place of the artist.
We wash it until it bleeds.
Wait for pings across the surface to alert us.
Fixity—or affixed to, this object of anxiety
Takes its place amongst our organs.
The welt in the desert.
Bitten into the black wing.
Each organ removed over the time it takes to complete the sculpture.
Or the removal was the work, rather.
Paradox the method always. As surface (broken).
Remade, approximates its previous gesture.
A cerebral hemorrhage, December 31st, 1970.
Washed hospital floors for money.

Cataracts which come unbidden like gnats.
Or the text, emancipated from its marksmanship, elating.
This could all be mistaken as parody.
Numb to the posturing so.

A jar once heavy with salt now swollen with rain. A trumpet bathed in milk. Shoes dissolved in gastric acid.

Used to say a real artist makes their work to protect themselves from the market. So laid five dead wrens around the text. Filled the room with salt and gasoline. Bent it through the floorboards.

Tries to kill itself and fails. So I eat the dream from your ear. Spill the wine from your shoes. The walls are in aneurysm.

Think to myself: permanently ignoring cishet people could be the ultimate piece of music. The moment I use the words I regret them. The moment I categorize the thing I recoil from it. Bring the curse into the house. The exception is class. Do not speak to or publicly acknowledge rich people, I tell myself. Appreciate the silent music in the absence of their constant slurring. See: Lee Lozano, Decide to Boycott Women, 1971.

Although no two organisms decompose in the same way, they all undergo the same sequential stages of decomposition—praxis. The silken skilled dismemberment of song. The tyranny of exhibition.

The under-currency of gore that levitates our transactional creativity

Nonesuch a surface or a painting as the brain which has committed suicide and is now spread across the table of the image. There the erotic knot of refusal and production reveals itself. Is tied around the common finger of the ancestor. The Suicide of Images. And with them the artist.

« she bathed a trumpet in milk—Eduardo C. Corral » — milk, silver trumpet stripped of the parts which make it playable, plexiglass vitrine 30 x 17 x 17

« sculpture » — inkjet print on photorag, framed 8.5 x 11 x 1

« 16 Deaths for Edivaldo Silva de Oliveira and Jeovan Bandeira whose burnt bodies were found in their car on the tenth of June, 2006 » — metal plinth, plexiglass vitrine, velvet cloth, metronomes set to Grave, Largo, Lento, Larghetto, Adagio, Adagietto, Andante, Andantino, Maestoso, Moderato, Allegretto, Animato, Allegro, Vivace, Presto, and Prestissimo, respectively. The metronomes are wound once a day at the gallery’s discretion, 75.5 x 55 x 18.5

from « sentience of music » duet « Let the forgetting begin. » — brass clock movement mechanism in lacrimal solution (salt water made to mimic the composition of tears), plexiglass vitrine, 15 x 15 x 15

« staging the organism:processor (atoms are not atoms)(higher tensile strength than steel)(the bone which allowed us to exit the oceans)(there is a story for every bone in the body) » — assorted mammalian bones and bone tools, tumeric, cadmium yellow pigment, found shells and vegetal pods, dimensions variable

Outside of the surrender to the incommunicable
a geometry stricken with epilepsy.

installation view of « The stars are a mnemonic without object./Let the forgetting begin. »

I naively wanted to believe that art was both a way of sensing and itself a sense organ. That it was a method and a means, a sentience external to the body. The outer person to the inner person. That our bodies are the material object of art and not the inverse. It's considered abject, formidable even, to think of or express such things. To play with knives near that which longs to be cut.

« aneurysm » — stabilized lotus pod, enamel, blood 4.5 x 5 x 3.5


« as the organism decays and the bones are no longer held together by the flesh » — Stradivarius Violin, likely fake, (C. 1726), burned until broken, inkjet print on photorag, dimensions variable

installation view of « The stars are a mnemonic without object./Let the forgetting begin. »

Transacts his gender and just rides. Like a brain stem into drywall. Blood calls them from a station wire. Their tires chide, breathe. They do. And sucking on the desire's cornerstone. Freedom, finally.


two views of « on a few points of principle/ Item sabots/ blouse—/ I work in the dye-house/ myself » — aluminum plaque, wooden stage, collected wooden sabot (Belgian, Dutch, American, Spanish), collected bowls (Pre Columbian, 12th century Cambodian, modern Tibetan, Civil War Era American, 19th century Turkish, & originals by the artist), collected machine components, lacrimal solution (salt water made to mimic the composition of tears), 144 x 96 x 8
I think one could say of such a sculpture—
Let the forgetting begin.

from « sentience of music » duet « an unslipping knot, gender » — oxford men’s shoes dissolving in gastric solution (HCL solution made to mimic the composition of stomach acid), plexiglass vitrine, 15 x 15 x 15

« when mineral rich groundwater permeates organic materials and fills the empty spaces, a fossil is formed » Oscar Schmidt Menzenhaurer Autoharp burned until broken, inkjet print on photorag, dimensions variable

installation view of « The stars are a mnemonic without object./Let the forgetting begin. »

installation view of staged performance for « The Acoustic Universe »

« separation of pieces of an organism caused by natural events (i.e. floods, scavengers etc.) » Antique bowl back mandolin burned until broken, inkjet print on photorag, dimensions variable