stagnanTVowels

untitled (name tag) (1999)  indelible ink on bound cotton rag    This design is from the Book of Bobby . It was done prior to the millennial rollover at a time when I was reading a lot about utopia and structure. While the road to hell is believed to be paved with good intentions I reasoned that rational thought is in reality also a huge sham of crumbling cookie that could easily be illustrated by inviting a large group of prognosticators to a hotel banquet room and serving them coffee and baked treats but providing their gathering with no other explicit purpose. The name tag devised here is itself a deepening of the debacle's fiction that was intended for the gathering's invitations and not for it's guests.  Because it felt reducibly clunky I abandoned the idea for this type of plein air performance sometime later. However the thought of utopia would continue linger at the periphery of many of these projects as time moved along. Until eventually it becomes ecli...

Shortened to simply, Cow Wheel... Its from the Book of Bobby. This book is a large book of many blank pages that are bound between 2 slabs of smooth maple. On the front of the Book is an adhesive foil medallion of a cowboy boot adorned with a 10 gallon hat encircled within a lasso's loop. The Book of Bobby is a place to put things. It's a place for fancy intentions and Cow Wheel is one of them that was conceived on or near 2001. Cow Wheel, it should work if its yellow but if it happens to be white then that's fine too (ca.2001) wood, cow, paint Cow Wheel, a life sized object without guile. It's intention is to strip the pretense of causation from the artifice of chance. It proposes a consistent and dynamic feedback of laughter resulting from the pairing of a wooden wheel within which a walking cow is housed. The constancy of this premise acts as a means for interpreting and potentially discrediting the model of dipolar theism.     

  My wit is screened in with a pen My love is not lost Constantly a blur I am Tuesday  I felt so pink. We talked all night about everything we could. There was an old and racist joke a wet submarine with a deep reservoir of courage and the last race that Paul ever ran in. We talked about the last stage of cancer until you cried and I held your hand. I was terrible, a drunk without shame. I shared my cigarettes and we cheated on your wife until morning. There is nothing to fear. God is lonely, just like you. All she wants is to watch TV, Happy Days I think.  You said, Amen. Then I did too. It was funny so we laughed at the same time, naked and warm.