michael j. morris

Cuddle (Purple) 2010
6 May, 2010, 5:06 pm
Filed under: art | Tags: , , , , , ,

I am finally finding the time to write a bit about my experience performing a piece entitled “Cuddle” (in homage to the piece by the same name that was originated by the Love Art Laboratory) in a group show entitled Breakups R Tough at U.Turn Art Space in Cincinnati. The piece was performed at the opening reception for the show on 3 April 2010.

The basic premise of the piece was the installation of a mattress in the gallery on which I would cuddle with visitors to the gallery the evening of the reception. The mattress was installed in small space in the front end of the gallery. We also hung a shear curtain to add a bit more of a remove for the bed space. The bed was dressed with organic purple sheets, throw pillows, and a patchwork coverlet. Small lamps from IKEA added an intimacy to the little “room.”

I had my anxieties that participating in the piece would not be attractive to the Cincinnati audience who visit the gallery, but earlier in the day I made my piece with that possibility. It seemed to me that there would be just as much of a statement/revelation/contribution to the show in a single person sitting alone in a bed for the duration of the evening. However, this is not how the piece worked itself out. The first hour was rather slow, with only one visitor to me bed. She stuck her head in the curtain and asked if she could come in. I asked if she wanted to cuddle, and she said no, that was a bit too much for her, but could we just sit and talk. And we did, for seven minutes (part of the construction for the piece was a timer, allowing for seven minutes to cuddle; when the timer went off, the time was up. It was a built in series of “breakups;” but it seemed perfect to me . . . because I have serious doubts surrounding the permanence of any human relationships, it seems to me a forgone conclusion that relationships end. The built in breakups seemed to acknowledge this, and opened a beautiful space in which to engage and appreciate connections with people with the foreknowledge that the connection will pass). She told me that being physical was not part of the way that she experienced or showed love. She told me that she was decidedly Irish Catholic and had felt for a long time that she was “supposed to” relate to people in her life in a certain way. Now, she was learning to practice what made her comfortable. When the seven minutes were up, she asked if she could give me a hug. It was a perfect start to the evening.

Throughout the course of the evening, I cuddled with six people on their own, two couples, and two three-ways (with me they became four-ways). All of the visitors came to cuddle on their own volition: part of the piece was that if I was not cuddling with anyone at the moment, patrons could feel free to come inside; it was they who had to initiate.

The demographics for the people who came to cuddle ranged from young women to middle aged women; the five men with whom I cuddled all seemed to be within their 20s.

I did not always follow the rules. Eric Falck (Autumn Quartet, etc.) drove down from Columbus to see the show/piece, and because of our history, I think we cuddled well over 20 minutes. I broke the rules, but that’s part of what we do, part of the rapport we’ve established (especially in Autumn Quartet, the rules and when/how we break them). It was poignant . . . because it seemed to illustrate the “theme” of the show most readily. Breakups are tough. Separation and the act of separating, the decision to say, “It’s time for you to go,” can be impossible sometimes. It was consistently impossible to ask him to leave when yet another seven minutes were up. There was to much familiarity, especially after a bout of relative distance. He bit me, leaving a mark similar to the marks he left on me from Autumn Quartet. It was a fascinating recontextualization of that physical rapport with one another, now on display in an art gallery behind a shear purple curtain. Cuddling with him was easily the most physical of the evening.

It was a very tender piece. I generally attempted to let the tone be set by the person I was with, and most decided to talk. The conversations ranged from literature to social justice to cooking, relationships and breakups and honesty and plans for the future, art, sex, and death. Only in one session did we not talk. Two young men cuddled with me in the middle of them. After negotiating who would be/face where (I ended up facing one, the other spooning behind me), we were just quiet. When the timer went off, one of the boys said, “It was really relaxing, to just . . . not have to do anything, to try . . .” I think he articulated something I felt pervaded most of the encounters, that of realizing ease, comfort, even something like love, just in the fleeting embraces.

Patricia Murphy and Michael J. Morris in "Cuddle (Purple)" 2010

Eric Falck and Michael J. Morris in "Cuddle (Purple)" 2010

Between the times at which I was cuddling, I knitted or journaled. Earlier that day I had come across a book by Sark (I think it was The Bodacious Book of Succulence: Daring to Live Your Succulent Wild Life) from which I derived little mantras that I silently repeated to myself throughout the evening. Examples included: “Come together,” “Keep surprise close at hand,” “Be willing to live between right and wrong,” “Wake up to love,” “Love imperfectly” (a very important one) . . .

“Please surrender to love. Let love past all your armor.”

“Let love flow past all the flood gates”

“Float in the arms of love.”

“Turn your face towards love and find the dancing part of your heart.”

“Welcome the dark parts of love and the deep, unknown layers. Let them speak too.”

“Swim in the swirl of love.”

“Love with all your faucets on.”

I also kept repeating to myself “Open all chakras,” which was on a bumper sticker given to me by one of my former yoga students. It was a mantra for staying open and available for whoever was going to get in bed with me next.

There were moments, especially during the first hour, in which there was an almost carnival sense to being in the show, as if to say: “Step right up! Come and see the single male homosexual, here on display for your viewing pleasure! Step right up!” People would walk up, read the description of the piece on lavender paper on the wall, look at me, then walk off. There was an unexpected element of the grotesque, in being something on display.

View of gallery from inside bed+curtain installation

At the end of the night, I turned the lamps off, crawled out of bed, and left my knitting on the bed. This was how the installation remained for the remainder of the show during April, the empty bed, the pillows and sheets tracing the former presence/current absence of the former occupant(s).

This is a piece I hope to reproduce again at some point. Keep it in my repertoire (always acknowledging that it is in complete homage to Love Art Lab’s original piece), and continue to subvert popular cultural perceptions of interpersonal acquaintance and intimacy, engage in public physical promiscuity, and reinvent socially authorized physical behaviors, while also celebrating the body as central to identity and expressions of love in non-traditional forms. This piece is so simple but resonates with me as so very political.

Purple Cuddle and the construction of self

Two ideas have been steeping for the last few weeks. It’s about time to get them down somewhere.

The first is a piece that I am performing next weekend at U·turn Art Space in Cincinnati. I participating in a group show entitled “Breakups R Tough.”

This is the gallery’s description of the show:

“Cincinnati, OH—About now, many of those relationships that were flourishing at Valentine’s Day aren’t looking so good. U·turn Art Space is pleased to announce a group exhibition that generates a wry discourse to deflate the melodrama of failed relationships. The exhibition includes Shawnee Barton, Stephanie Brooks, Alex Da Corte, Craig Damrauer, Erica Eyres, Lynne Harlow, Peter Huttinger, Eric Lebofsky, Joetta Maue, Casey Riordan Millard and Michael J. Morris.

Artists using embroidery, drawing, installation, performance, photography, sculpture and video offer different perspectives on crisis points in the human experience. Not strictly focused on just the ‘breakup’ between romantic partners, Breakups R Tough considers how interpersonal interactions cease or mutate into something more chaotic. Grafted into the dialogue are slanted looks at other stages in the quest for love, companionship and sex, such as propositions, courtship and self-pleasure. The assembled artists will address the topic with humor, wit, sexuality, physical comfort, and suggestions for remodeling our culture’s structure for types of relationships and categories of love and conflict.”

You can read more about the show here as well.

This is the published blurb about my piece:

“During the opening reception of Breakups R Tough, Morris will be creating a performance piece in homage to a 2005 artwork by the Love Art Laboratory, which is comprised of the famed sex artist Annie M. Sprinkle and her wife, artist and activist Elizabeth M. Stephens. LAL is a seven-year long undertaking in which the two women facilitate annual performance-based projects and rituals, including wedding ceremonies. In their first year, 2005’s Red year, Sprinkle and Stephens created the work entitled “Cuddle” in the Femina Potens Gallery. Once a week, during the exhibition the artists would put on cuddle outfits and spend several hours cuddling gallery visitors who had made advance appointments. They invited the participants to take off their shoes and socks and cuddle with them for seven minutes. This piece has been recreated by LAL in multiple locations, both nationally and abroad. After receiving a grant to travel to California and interview Sprinkle and Stephens in December 2009, Michael J. Morris will conceive a version of this piece as a performance in the U.turn exhibition. His piece is intended as a subversion of popular cultural perceptions of interpersonal acquaintance and intimacy, physical promiscuity, and socially authorized physical behaviors, while also serving as a celebration of the body as central to identity and expressions of love in non-traditional forms. For more about the Love Art Laboratory, please visit the website here.”

You can read about and view documentation of LAL’s original piece here.

There are marked differences between Annie and Beth’s (and their dog Bob’s) original piece and my re-created homage to their work. Aspects that immediately spring to mind are the differences between cuddling with a lesbian couple and cuddling with a single gay man, the difference between this piece being staged in an alternative arts space in San Francisco (or Glasgow or Austin, where it has subsequently been restaged) and staging this piece in a gallery in the midwest, in Cincinnati. Another difference is that I am attempting to partially contextualize the piece in Love Art Lab’s current work. As simple an alteration as it may be, I am making a purple bed/space: purple sheets on the bed, purple curtains (hopefully), and maybe even a purple cuddling costume. Love Art Lab is currently in their Purple year, the year of the Third Eye Chakra (Ajna), centered on intuition and wisdom. My hope is that the recontextualization of the piece goes deeper than just a shift in color but also in intention. In the original piece in 2005, the emphasis came out of the Red Year (Root Chakra, Muladhara), Security and Survival. Here cuddling seemed to be a kind of reassurance, a cultivation not only of love (part of the mission of LAL) but also a kind of interpersonal security, the safety offered by holding or being held. I think these aspects can’t help but carry over into my re-creation of the piece, but there is also the potential for a shift in intention to be one of knowledge and knowing. The act of cuddling, this temporal physical engagement being an act of both knowing and being known. As I’ve stated, my interests for the piece are “intended as a subversion of popular cultural perceptions of interpersonal acquaintance and intimacy, physical promiscuity, and socially authorized physical behaviors, while also serving as a celebration of the body as central to identity and expressions of love in non-traditional forms.” These notions harken back to the piece I created last year (and enacted this year in the process of Autumn Quartet), “KNOW(TOUCH)ME(YOU)(MY/YOUR BODY)“. Because my research and current perspective situate the body itself as the site for the perpetual perception, negotiation, and performance of identity, I often find it troubling that our culture privileges visual and verbal modalities for the acquaintance of individuals. We get to know one another predominantly  by what we see of one another and what we say. I am interested in subverting this, privileging the body not only as the site of identity, but a potential site of acquaintance. The Cuddle piece serves this, and I think there is something of this physical “getting to know you” that echoes the knowing intuition of the Purple Year of LAL. I’m also thinking about the extension of the body/self into the environment (this is essential to my understanding of “Sexecology” and “Eco-Sexuality,” ideas that have emerged from LAL and their performance work), and how the construction of this “cuddling space,” the bed and the curtains and the (hopefully) soft lamp light, may also serve as an extension of myself, the implication of myself into the space, and the subsequent implications for inviting gallery patrons into that space. I am also fascinated by the relationship between this work, Love Art Lab, the chakra system (and thus Tantric philosophy out of which it emerged) and my own yoga practice and teaching of yoga. How does my teaching inform this work, and how might it is turn inform my teaching?

I’ll let you know how it goes.

In a seemingly completely unrelated speculation (but of course it is all related), I am thinking about a practice or a course (or book?), something like “Scoring: The Constitution of the Moving Self.” This thinking started while writing my recent paper on the process of reading and dancing Trio A from Labanotated score (see previous post), but has evolved into a constellation of thought, touching on my predicted dissertation research and additional systems of “scoring” that I have explored. I am thinking about the lived “here-and-now” experience of the dance and the dancer as inseparable, that in the moment of dancing, both are mutually defined by one another (or, perhaps more accurately, as one). I am thinking about how dances or movement are generated and created, and how the individual is constituted through those generative processes. Because I think of movement as an extension of self (and a force by which the self is invented in the present here-and-now), I am interested in how scoring systems are used to generate movement and in doing so generate individuals. I am thinking about scoring systems like Labanotation and Motif Description, but also verbal/imagistic scores used to produce movement, as in Butoh (the language used to generate movement are called “Butoh-fu” which literally translates to “Butoh notation”) and Gaga, and the various systems of scoring that I experienced in the Forsythe project here at OSU last year, things like “room writing” or inscribing in space (tracing imagined forms in space), and the production of the wall score for Monster Partitur (line tracings of shadows produced by paper sculptures from skeleton models that emerged from a personal history). I am also thinking of Fluxus scores and scores used in choreographic practices by artists such as Pina Bausch. What comes to mind is the question of “what is a score?” Right now I am thinking of it as a persisting physical, linguistic or conceptual artifact by which movement is produced. The nature of the scoring system determines that nature of the movement and the nature of the method by which it is produced. I am not thinking of scores so much as documentation of what was (a record of movement that existed) as much as I am considering it as a generative source. It is, of course, situated somewhere in between these moments/movements: the means by which the score was generated (this may be a documentation of movement as in Labanotation or an idea, as in Butoh) and the movement that the score then produces.
Central to these ideas are the fact that the movement produced (by the score) is intrinsically unique and definitive of the individual. While the score itself is persistent, the movement it produces is not. It is unique to the individual, as the individual body, emerging from and simultaneously contributing to the identity of the individual.

There is a relationship between scores and the regulatory normalities by which persons are constructed/produced. I’m reading Judith Butler right now, and I am thinking about the pervasive culturally constructed systems by which individuals are regulated and produced. Gender, according to Butler, does not precede the acts by which gender is signified, but is in fact constituted by those acts by which it is perceived to be persistent. I am thinking of the engagement of the individual with the score as an active co-creation/participation in the generative structures by which the individual is produced. By enacting the score, the individual practices agency in the formulation of action and the methods/structures by which they are produced. If identity (and gender) are not that from which performative acts emerge but are in fact constructed through the sequence/repetition of performative acts, what then is the implication of the persistent score in the generation of acts? What is there to analyze in the relationship between the score and repetition?

And so, in a sense, it all relates. “Cuddle,” as formulated and enacted by Annie Sprinkle and Elizabeth Stephens in 2005 now serves as the score by which my own actions are produced. I engaged with the documentation of that work as a score and in doing so select the structure by which my self, my situation, and my contribution to culture and society are produced.

I would love for this to be a course at some point, examining the nature of scores and scoring, how it may reflect, co-create or interrupt the pervasive social “scores” by which we are produced (I love the idea of situating Butler in the context of movement scores/scoring), and exploring various systems of scoring in the conscious production of self. If I apply for jobs at some point, I could imagine this being a course that I would propose to teach.

Those are my thoughts today. I hope to have time to continue to serve these ideas as weeks go by. I hope to continue to read and dance Trio A as a means of constructing myself, and to engage with additional scores in the production of movement/self.

Onto the spring quarter . . .

Recipes During Wartime
20 February, 2010, 2:31 pm
Filed under: art | Tags: , ,

Two weeks ago, I had the pleasure of attending my twin brother Matt Morris‘ opening reception for his current installation/exhibition at U.Turn Art Space in Cincinnati. The piece/exhibit is entitled Recipes During Wartime. I would like my writing about the work to focus primarily on my experience of it and the meaning I made of it, but I would also like to offer some suggestion of the form/materials of the piece. The piece is comprised of a large rectangular veiled space, the floor of which has been covered with sifted flour. In this field of flour are various small objects. Below are a couple of images, and a list of materials provided by the artist:

Recipes During Wartime
Matt Morris

Tulle, flour, lights, perfume, broken bottle, wax, Diet Coke lid, foil tape, plastic, iridescent polypropylene, paper, embroidery floss, Christie’s auction magazine cover, dowels, foamcore, stickers, thread, holographic paper, hot glue, acrylic paint, glitter, crushed meringues, masking tape, an argument, drywall, aluminum leaf, ink, rosé wine label, primer, tissue boxes, wax paper, twine, ostrich feathers, dust, rainwater, Saint Kitten’s footprints, glass, Model Magic, hosiery, stickers, mica powder, chenille stem, wire, aluminum flashing, fiberglass tape, leftovers, antacids, found photograph in plastic frame, lust, glitter glue, invisible tape, a week of naps, Mylar, pushpins, trips to flea markets, spider webs, found objects, graphite, salt dough, lipstick, wood glue, figurine, rainbow sprinkles,  baking powder, corsage pins, ghosts, framed digital photograph.


Where to begin?

My initial sensation upon entering the gallery was the articulate pronouncement of duality or dichotomy. The colossal veil of tulle that forms the membrane of the installation immediately provoked a sense of interior and exterior, inclusion and exclusion, separateness and otherness. I felt initially as that which was other than that which was veiled. This was not without its immediate ramifications. By becoming acutely aware of the veiled quality imposed on all that was included in the installation, I became increasingly aware of my unveiled quality. It left me feeling exposed. But between this sense of the veiled and the unveiled was a sensation of the unveiling. The tulle veil was permeable. I was invited to see into, to investigate (from a distance) that which may have been completely withheld. The veil hung with this quality between withholding and revealing, neither fully one nor the other.

The veil and that which was veiled felt removed, specialized. Immediate associations were fashion runway, holy of holies, the train of a bride’s veil, the skirt of a ballerina. The objects inside of the veil felt special, secrets being revealed.

My second immediate sensation echoed several of my current research interests: the expansive nature of consciousness and its implications for embodiment and corporeality. The veil kept me physically outside of the installation, requiring me to project myself sensationally into the interior space. But it was not a sense of disembodying; instead, I felt an expansion of my corporeality, an extension of my perception (essentially embodied) into the interior spaces. By being presented with the permeable boundary of the veil, I became increasingly aware of the expansive and potentially permeable nature of what I perceive of an my own boundaries.

Perhaps it was in response to the intonation of “Wartime” in the title, but I was struck with a sense of witnessing the aftermath of some catastrophic event: I am thinking of the layers of dust that covered so much of New York City after the planes crashed into the World Trade Center towers on 9/11, or the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the cloud that settled over the debris after the blast of destructive force. This implication of previous violence and the calm that came after was pervasive throughout my experience of the installation. Throughout moments of being seduced by elegant details, fragile forms and elusive sensations, I still felt the persistent implication of former violence beneath the surface of what I was being shown. It is a grace that comes by violence (to quote a poem by Anne Carson).

There is an intense fixity to the installation, a sense of a moment being held or preserved. Perhaps more than ever before, there is a sense that something has happened here (this is a persistent quality in Matthew’s work, at least for me: the implication of previous events), and the installation serves to fix the evidence of that event. Matthew’s work sometimes feels like crime-scenes to me. The veil in this instance serves as caution tape, the flour the chalk drawing around the edges of the body. The installation could be seen as evidence, evidence of former violence, the aftermath of war or warcrimes, or, perhaps even more poignantly, a life or lives lived. There is a personal nature to many of the objects to be found within the veiled space, offering a sense that this was a personal war, a war of persons.

Into this association with the aftermath of war and destruction came an important realization. There were signs of life throughout the installation: disturbance of the flour at the edges provoked by the movement of the viewers, but, even more importantly perhaps, disturbance of the flour on the interior of the installation. Brief texts emerged in the flour (whether these words were part of the evidence of that which had occurred or evidence of life responding after the fact was deliciously ambiguous), words like “MENU,” “YES,” and “STOP;” the footprints of a kitten could be found, echoing one of the few imagistic representations in the installation, a framed print of kitten footprints on a white wall, hung out of the direct line of the viewer at the far end of the installation. It seemed possible that this life evidenced may be paranormal in nature (ghosts are certainly listed as part of the materials), but the important realization was that the preserved/fixed moment of the event that has transpired has not gone undisturbed. This was a realization that mixed hopefulness and suspicion.

Perhaps it is more an accident of my own Butoh-affected aesthetic than anything essential in the work itself, but there was a leveling quality to the expansive field of flour. In Butoh, white powder is sometimes applied over the body of the performer as a way of neutralizing individual identity, so that the dancer takes on a kind of embodiment of universality. The field of flour had a democratizing affect on the scattered objects, neutralizing distinction in the space in between one thing and the next, and coating them in a sense of egalitarianism.

It would be impossible to stand before this veil without thoughts of the sacred. This is one of many apparent dichotomies intoned by the work, the distinction between the sacred and the mundane (or profane), and that which separates and creates this distinction. However, this dichotomy is subverted throughout the work. The nature of the objects themselves, the permeability of the tulle veil itself, the subtle places where the veil has been torn (these tears accentuated with touches of glitter, bringing special attention to the flaws of this dichotomy, the barrier we draw between the sacred and the otherwise). Just as the objects themselves are given subtle transcendence by the addition of iridescence, sparkle, silver leafing, etc., this transcendence is extended to the viewer and the mundane world beyond the veil in these elegant tears in what may at first seem a clear divide. One particular object of interest within the veil seems to perfectly epitomize this subversion of the sacred/mundane(profane) dichotomy: near one the the front corners of the installation is found a small silver figurine of a putto lying on its side, partially obscured by red wax that has dripped over it from a candle that has been burned down. I cannot help but think of the angelic figures fabled to sit atop the ark of the covenant, the ark kept within the veil of the holy of holies by the Israelites in the Old Testament. Here the tiny angle is found lying on its side, at a distal corner of the veiled space, submerged in a fairly mundane evidence of the passage of time, a candle having burned down. Of course this candle could have been sacred; it may have been an implement in ritual or witchcraft or seance. But situated as it is within the context of the other objects to be found within the veil, it seems far more likely that the story of the candle and the reclining angelic figure it consumes is mundane in origin and nature. There do seem to be common denominators amongst the objects: all of the objects situated about the field of flour seem either compromised or compromising, bits and pieces, unfinished forms, found objects, remnants of previous events. Descriptions that come to mind are dismantled (intended to connote both deconstruction and unveiling), disregarded, disheveled, distressed, mementos and memories, all somehow pervasively confectionate. Again, above and beneath what seem to be the charged content of the debris of catastrophe lies neutrality: from beneath each object, rooted in its nature, are these common qualities listed above; from above, as if to ensure the perception of neutrality, there is the field of flour. The nature of the installation tastes like a layered pastry, charged specificity and ambiguity sandwiched between layers of neutrality.

There are aesthetic rewards to be discovered throughout the installation. There was the overwhelming scent of warm sugar permeating the gallery space (the edible accoutrement for the opening reception were a variety of home-made cotton candy, in flavors conceived of and concocted by the artist. Flavors of revelatory interest to me were Brown Sugar, Wasabi and White Pepper, Balsamic, Cinnamon and Cardamom, and Smoke. I could write a whole additional piece on the cotton candy and its relationship to the work, but I may have to leave that exhaustive work to others). Bursts of iridescence rewards the viewer who moves slowly and carefully, examining each object. Sparkle is the buoyant punctuation within this predominantly flat and neutralizing field of flour: iridescent plastic, bits of silver foil, specks of glitter, a small sheet of holographic paper, holographic tape lining the upper edge of white foam core, the gleam of glass and tape and plastic. These glints of divinity amidst the compromised neutrality of the objects themselves is yet another aesthetic reinforcement of the sense of permeability and mutability between the sacred and mundane(profane). Other aesthetic rewards (all to be found mostly through careful examination) are loose threads in the veil and small bits of hair caught up in the tulle. The movement of the viewers around the edges of the veil leave tiny traces (“drawings”?) in the edges of the flour, reinforcing the record of continuing presence in what seems initially and apparently a “fixed” situation evidencing a previous event. There is an eroticism to the presentation of many of the objects: by having the full form or nature of the object withheld or partially obscured, I am left with longing for that which is out of reach. A pink slip of paper featuring scribbled lines, some scratched through, far too far out of visual range to be legible; an image if seemingly Baroque figures partially covered in the field of flour; a framed photograph hung just out of my sightline, so that I cannot stand squarely before it. I was rewarded in recognizing the difference between the wet footprints of the spectators emerging into the gallery out of the snow, the motion of the viewer and the apparent immobility of the installation.

Herein seems to be one of Matthew’s many gifts, an ability to imply or direct attention to everything via his constructions. Everything becomes implicated either by inclusion or contrast. His enchantment is one of expanding awareness, elevating attention, and in doing so neutralizing what might otherwise be a varied landscape of importance and unimportance. In viewing this work, and lingering in hours, days, and scattered moments after viewing the work, everything takes on importance. Everything becomes sacred because of the attention I bring to it. I read a couple of weeks ago in May Sarton’s Journal of a Solitude that “Absolute attention is prayer.” This seems relevant to the lingering enchantment of Matthew’s work. By entreating the expansion and intensification of my attention, all becomes sacred, awareness becomes reverence, and that which is becomes deified.

I could likely write far more about the work, but as I look back over what I have written, I feel that I have at least sketched in the major structure of my experience of the work.

Events continue for the show. Tonight there is an artist and poetry reading accompanying the release of a monograph in conjunction with the show. Info for this event can be found here. It starts at 7:00pm at U.Turn.

recipes during wartime, etc.

Tonight I am driving to Cincinnati to attend the opening reception of my brother‘s new exhibition/installation “Recipes During Wartime” at U.Turn Art Space:

A few images that have been released thus far:

I am very excited. I can have consistent confidence that Matthew’s work will offer the subtlety, ambiguity, and profundity that I crave in aesthetic experiences.

Here is an excerpt about Matthew and his work from the U.Turn blog:

“U·turn Art Space is pleased to announce a solo exhibition by one of its collective members, Matt Morris. Recipes During Wartime is a site specific installation characterized by a transparent veil ensconcing the central portion of the gallery. Within the veil Morris presents a floor installation involving powders, an array of subtle objects, and experiments with lighting and scent. The work developed alongside Morris’ research for his upcoming lecture “After the Party: Artistic Hindsight as Crowns Were Passed at the French Revolution and the Localvore Revolution” at the 6th Conference on Food Representation in Literature, Film and the Other Arts in San Antonio, TX. Almost as if laying out a picnic feast for gathering ghosts, the installation within the veil becomes the charged focus of the room. The artist asks viewers to project themselves into a space that is right in front of them but cannot be entered. In this brand new installation, Morris is interested in inquiring into and exploring our psychologies as they relate to place, memory and the edges of perception.”

(for more, please visit this post)

Tomorrow I am going to the Wexner’s “Super Sunday” event for the new exhibition Hard Targets. I am very excited to see this exhibit, especially because of its inclusion of Catherine Opie photographs. Also, as part of the event, Dante Brown is presenting his new work-in-progress, Chalk Boundaries. I saw a preview of this piece on Wednesday, and I am in awe of it. I hope to have more articulate language with which to respond to the piece after Sunday.