Do you get nervous when you meet one of those... really fancy people? People you highly admire and never think or expect to meet them... then all sudden, they're right front of you?
At Performa, I see the director RoseLee Goldberg. She wrote books on performance art which now have become a fundamental text in studying a historical progression in performance art in the states. She always wears black, and her bang always cleanly cut. What she's been able to do through Performa is quite phoenomenal.
I remember Omer Fast's The Casting as one of the most memorable pieces at the Whitney Biennial 2008 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYfIxEfywKM). And there he was front of me, talking about his project commissioned by Performa this coming November. So I started researching for his project, reading through hundreds entries of soldiers' blogs... some of them are in fact amazing writers. Check out Michale's blog -
I come back to my senses when I realize the significance of me signing up for the Army three years ago to this day. I signed up for three years. Today is my ETS date. I’m free to go home. They must have a jet fueling up right now, waiting to fly me back to my wife, home, and freedom. Maybe Michael Moore will be there to greet me at the airport with a video camera in my face. I could take him my mattress, with its shit covered floral design, and let him eat it, since I know he’s hungry. As soon as he’s taken a bite, I have kicked him in the balls and punched him in the teeth, shit flowers rising into the air, light as snowflakes, with every hard breath he takes. Settling down, they come to rest on him, forming a shit flower blob.
I’m once again brought back to reality and remember that my enlistment has been extended for the duration of this deployment, plus a few months after I get home. This doesn’t bother me since I would feel like a floral mattress with the weight of Michael Moore on me if I didn’t come back over here a second time. I slide my flip-flops(shower shoes in military speak) over to my bed, careful not to touch them with my hands. No amount of antibacterial hand sanitizer can kill the germs that are making their home in my shower shoes. The nylon strap that goes over my feet is hard and crusty from their last use. The bottom of each is dirty with mud from walking back through dirt the last time. Struggling to get my toes underneath this nylon is difficult without using my hands. I will my toes to burrow underneath and finally succeed, the part that goes in between my toes now in place. Heading for the door, I grab my towel, soap case, shampoo, and a clean pair of boxers.
-posted by Michael
The Casting, 2008
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