Monologue- in class assignment

 Last night I did not dream.

This morning as I made breakfast, I burnt my hand. I see only the heat waves. I leave the stove on, but with nothing on it. I sit down on the couch with my palms facing up on my lap. As I stare at my hands, you walk into the room. You’re already dressed. Pressed suit and tie and expectant of food. I don’t notice you as you kiss the top of my head and leave. I sit on the couch with my palms facing up on my lap for the rest of the day.

You return home. I am still in the same position- all that has changed is the light. You must have turned off the stove on your way out. Then, not at all surprised, I break my trance, go into the kitchen and turn the stove back on. You stand in the doorway, loosening your tie. I put oil in the pan and watch it slide around. You lean in the doorway, monitoring my every move. My wrists are bandaged. I have purple crescents under my eyes. I throw some bacon in the pan. It’s breakfast for diner.

You take over in the kitchen. The temptation is just too much for me. Before leaving, I run my fingers along the top of the burner just to feel that sensations briefly, one last time. I go back to the couch and sit there with my palms facing up on my lap.

Dreams don’t visit my sleep anymore.

Accumulation and Metaphor- Space and Time, Accumulation of Language stop motion

Accumulation and Metaphor- Cellular Accumulation collaboration

Accumulation and Metaphor- Space and Time, Accumulation of Language

Surface Resist Dying- Repeat Pattern, Triangles/Diamonds

Silk Organza hand painted with an Inko resist. Then painted Antique Gold, and then dyed Bubblegum Pink. Appliqued on top is velveteen hand painted with an Inko resist. The painted Bright Green and then dyed Brown Rose. There is also navy cotton, forest green China Silk and Carmine Velveteen.

Surface Resist Dying- Sound Waves

Cotton, China Silk, Silk Organza and Velveteen dyed turquoise,
then screen printed with an Inko resist and then painted Navy.

Surface Resist Dying- 4 Actions

China Silk
1. Dyed Ice Blue
2. Thiox splatter paint
3. Splatter painted with Peach
4.Completely Thioxed
5. Hand painted
6. Completely Thioxed
7. Dyed Ice Blue
8. Bound and Thioxed
9. Potato Dextrin resist
10. Painted with red, blue and orange
11. Dyed green

Intro to Fibers- Machine Embroidery, Wayne Coyne Illustration

Intro to Fibers- Sunday in the Park with Doug

Intro to Fibers- Tapestry

Accumulation and Metaphor- System of Accumulation: Embroidered Ant Bridge

The first level is complete. Now to keep building up, up and away!

Halloween Costume

This year I went as the streets of Baltimore.

Things that Happen on a Wednesday

I.

You are constantly eating your words. Do they taste good? Is that why you do it so often? Sometimes I feel like you can’t help it. Sometimes that can be better than saying them. You cannot control your words. They come out so rapidly, so many at once, that you have to start chewing them, instead of speaking them. You chew and you choke and you swallow and digest. Your bladder must be full of words. There is probably a new language hiding out there.

But there are times when I wish you would just spit it out. I want to stand over you, reach my arms down your throat and pull those words out of your gut before they get digested. Before they get digested and turned into something new.

I want to hear what you have to say, but sometimes it is hard to understand you with your mouth full.

II.

I went to order my food.

He touched my hand when I handed him your card.

Maybe he didn’t know it was your card.

III.

The chair started out light in my arms. I felt like I was the parade marshal. Behind me was a marching band consisting of stolen utensils, stranger’s keys, sticky bottle caps and a youth’s soda tabs. We marched on. There was no set rhythm, no sheet music to be followed.

The chair grew heavy in my arms. The streets were empty. No one peered out through lit windows. Only the barren trees and their pile of leaves could enjoy the sounds.

No one tried to rain on my parade.

Preview of the United States of Sasha

Sound Suit for a Rocking Chair

Drawing at the aquarium

Accumulation and Metaphor- Space and Time

For my space and time accumulation I am working with the accumulation of language. It is going to consist of three projects. I have been keeping a notebook and I try to write in it everyday. Sometimes I write a poem, sometimes a short story. The notebook has 35 pages and I am on pg. 28. I am printing each page onto a piece of 8.5 x 11 in silk organza. I am going to build a box and frame the layers of fabric in the box. Behind the fabric is going to be a light and a set of speakers. The speakers are going to play a sound piece of me reading each page, layered on top of each other. And then there are going to be two silent representations. One is going to be a stop motion. I am going to print each page on the same piece of printer paper and photograph the paper after each print. And the third piece is going to be a giant poster of the final accumulation of language. I want to either print it 44x47 or 24x72. I want that piece to be confrontational.

A Series of Unrelated Events

I.) I slowly allowed my body to lean up against the wall. I tried to be careful of the heater. But I was not careful enough. The front of my shins touched the hot metal. They sat there for a second, contemplating the heat. I have noticed that my reactions are slower these days. The front of my legs jumped back, but the rest of my body stayed up against the warm wall. I tried moving my legs again.

II.) As I stood there, with all my personal thoughts on the page, I felt more vulnerable than ever. Although most of words were not legible, I felt the most personal words were out there, in the open. I stood there, feeling exposed, even though others might say that I was hardly exposing myself at all. I cut my arm and opened it up, revealing muscle, veins, and bone down to the marrow. But still I am masked. Even if I had stood there in the nude, I wouldn’t feel as vulnerable as my words made me feel.

III.) The other night, I set my kitchen on fire. At first, it was an innocent action. I was making popcorn. I poured oil into the pot, and then placed the pot onto the stove. I checked the pot, and the flame jumped out. Bright orange danced in the air. It taunted me. The fire called to me by name, it invited me to dance with it. And so I danced. I danced until the entire kitchen was engulfed in orange, which was not for very long, because it was a small kitchen.