Artists Run Chicago

Treatment For Three Volumes (2009) Van, Cardboard

Treatment For Three Volumes (2009) Van, Cardboard
Diego Bobby

Owing to the strength of modernity, with its pedagogical nowness, and it's remote biases, Treatment For Three Volumes acts as an “assemblage” of hierarchal moments in the stanza of a joke. It's punch line both eminent and expected within an accepted pattern of 3 passes. This work's treatment is the litmus of comedy in the crucible of specificity and timing. Its nature is narrative though not as an imperative but as a breathe following the mixed gestures of a hiccup followed then by a fart, and a sneeze. Driven as a device of element and process, Treatment For Three Volumes is the gleaned wit of spurned children blessed in the tidal waters of the 60's. It's notions to be determined in the gathering and assembling of the same materials thrice, immediately, and within the context of their immediate experience. It's understanding however lay in the post-contemporary earnestness for doubt and illusion that is both inert and pervading. Wherein the expense of suffering through the imminent moment of the narrative now, at the expense of the audiences voyeuristic instinct remains a sacrificial distinction of honest depravity. To you, I say good luck.

Shrill Show
Hyde Park Art Center
06-20-09

Comments

Totem

Tonight is old. It's wett but current and bored. I'm watching nothing but stars in the often sky that happen... do... tonight is lame like old, young like song, even as blue... Equal after the sun, noon or scripted yellow you are to me... A we (as sound)

Songlet is Best

fig.0231) FizzGraf MT. "Magical, like a chorus of like minded souls in a froth of cotton fumes." Over fake doors, under refurbished ladders, gypsum board and bent yellow pipes offering us an unmade bed and a stained window. Our one chance at tomorrow. Magnetic guts from at least a thousand cassettes are strewn across the room. Hee-Haw style, fancy dress shoes cling to the floor like it's '86 all over again. Hee-Haw, goes the sound. Hee-Haw, we're closer then we were. Hee-Haw, it's hilarious. Listening for trains, leaning out over the rails like two people with no time at all. Better maps, that's what we need. We could use a melody for singing with this chorus; in whose curious presence more patients wait to be found. With hands over our heads, someone passes by and asks, "gender?" There's stars in this sweet tooth of mine and some atoms left from the sky, Tonight the whole angle of heaven sleeps without light. Ordering its coffee darkest, t

Whiskers, chanting, "swap me, swap me!"

Fig.32) Aging poorly We're just together, taking ourselves for a tidy sum of walk and now our toes are wet and cool in the Lak, beside a cool stone that could drive a modernist to their flint. There's a listening experience that feels prepared, "our's for now, ours it says! Here's the hammer and it's wrapped in its own design already. A union in time-space, this card is our greetings, our massive, our very patience is reflected in this resolve." Suddenly, there's a cut away and she's wearing the pants that I've made for her, slow blue like painted smoke . I'm thinking about her hunched over the kitchen table, something that's stuck. There's a carving knife in her hand but from here, it's the same as an old spoon. From here my computer is sitting on my guilty seat, I'm thinking about champagne and comparing it to a thick wad bees and wondering whats in it for me? It's an anxious season, filled with not enough of anythin

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