Dream Art.

I made these cellophane tapestries with pressed pansies and rice in them.

Sunday Evening

I was at the Shop Rite in Rio Grande at night, the super market was empty and the lights were turning off slowly. As I walked towards the automatic sliding doors and passed the pharmacy I began flipping through a series of photographic color images of the ocean that I was holding. Skimming through the saturated cyan photos I began to see moving waves, then shadows of fish and sting ray moving across the page. As I got to the end of the pile, I noticed my hands were becoming wet and drops of water were falling off the image and onto the floor.



I was a tiny Buddist artist sleepily laying on the belly of a giant Buddist Prince, resting my miniature head on his monolithic chin. He called me his artist and he would take care of me if I took care of him, as in create art at his commission. Upset that I was not free to create as I wished, I filled with anger, but was grateful somebody was going to take care of me and too tired to act out on my frustration. As I began to fall asleep I took notice of his smile lines.

As I began to doze off...

A beagle began laughing like a seagull. The sand kicked up and twirled around.

Many Months Ago

Sigmund Freud came galloping out of the forest on horseback.

On the Second

I'm in the back of my Toyota Camry with my dad. I'm eight years old. We were along the side of my grandmother's house in Cape May parked on the grass near the tomato garden waiting for my brother and mom to come out of the house to drive back to Philadelphia. They were together again, my mom and dad, even though things weren't so perfect.

After a while of waiting I went inside the house. In the living room were moving boxes and bins stacked up around the room. I went upstairs to the hallway to find my mother pacing and screaming. "I'm never going back. I don't want to and you can't make me. I'm staying here."

Tuesday

I met up with Colin where I had asked him if he could sell me tree. He began shoving large undried leaves of an actual tree into a tiny black film canister. For a moment, I stared in dismay as he struggled to make this work, the motion of him packing in the green leaves was mesmerizing, but a bottling fear of anxiety began to rise as I heard Mama's voice, she was coming closer with her boyfriend, Frank, afraid they would see...despite the fact I know they're total stoners.

Over the weekend

I couldn't sleep so I decided to develop some photos despite the fact it was 4 or 5am. I was under the El, along Front Street by Berks station because there was a communal storage tub of developer there, next to the abandoned store fronts and overgrown lots. As I began to dip my photographs into the solution, I took notice of the withering prints in the tub that had been deserted by artists. They were all photographs of young women who must be grandmothers by now, either that or far gone from this place.