A revolution. Inside a house.
A chronicle of the legacy of invisible, of invincible – where early punk rock, jazz and the first two minutes of the 1812 Overture are the threads of survival. Where breaking space and violent stillness trump the currency of language.
An avalanche set off by Jan, the mother. She awakes like a heretic, with urgency, with the charge of nature. This is a tale of mentoring by objects and of space.
Jean adopts herself into the ecology of architecture, folds into the ranks of windowsills and distance.
This is a catalogue of escape and departure. There are codifications of flight, moving and not moving.
Mark, the brother, they called him slow in those days. It was confusing. He never spoke slow, never moved slowly. This is so he does not go unsung.
A revolution as told by me and the house I grew up in.
We had to tell it, we were the last ones standing.
This is a search.
This is a chase.
About this projectThe object of a book is symbolic of a house, to be entered and listened into. Books live somewhere between a self and a thing.
During a MacDowell Colony Residency Fellowship for interdisciplinary research, I began translating a narrative from an unfinished dance work into a memoir. Abstractions began to reassemble back to ideas of house, home, the quotidian and terrestrial. The house as witness – as a principle character.
This book project comes about at the place where decades of art making ends and a new space opens. I’ve drawn from long experience and profound practice in varied modalities of creating work to write this world. Fidelity to my work as a thinker and maker is to climbing and deep, deep diving. I’ve always questioned — are we authored, or do we author?
The primary force and story that I’ve been deconstructing and rendering within my visual and performative work needed to be rewritten and restored and released. Erasure, destruction, invisibility, shape shifting, implosion, mutiny, hyper resilience, acute listening, precision, killing, multiplicity, endurance.
The reconstruction of this story is multi-versed. Time is fluid, structure and form transmute and shift. Disparate elements collide and align to produce their own language of space and place, of heartbreak, of flight. I built this book so its world and those within it would not go unsung. I built it as an architecture for getting free, for future thinking, for the house that I grew up in, and for the book itself.
I built it as proof and as a monument for you and your story.
WILDLIFE generates a catalogue of the intricate systems, processes and cost of self-preservation. Told as a series of visceral discursive moments that examine and embody the mysteries of relationships, inspire reclamation and emancipation from the cages of trauma and the legacy of violence.
WILDLIFE is architecture for the possibility of getting free.
Notes On Process: Also at MacDowell, I was deconstructing The 1812 Overture. These sound drafts were developed to score sections of text and text was written for sections of sound, setting a dynamic structure for building the narrative into a book.