Showing posts with label walls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label walls. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 12, 2011



I have arrived in New Orleans. Went and saw our site and the crumbling brick walls that we may use. I also visited the one of the last remaining high end fabric stores in the country.

videos/imagery to make for amending :
walls breaking open / tearing down walls
fire, burning, unburning : the veil from the store?
light flickering on and off
cracks and gaps
commercial patterns ?
a needle floating back and forth
repetition in the fabric store -- buttons, thread, ribbons, stackings

Invitation:
Any wall — literal or metaphorical — blocks us from seeing. But we’re always finding those closed borders in each other and in ourselves. What does it look like when a wall is built, broken, and rebuilt? Through projection and sculptural installation, artists Silvie Deutsch and Kira Akerman clothe two brick walls in an empty lot on Oretha Castle with intricate textile structures to reveal the energy of their making.

Amending
Silvie Deutsch & Kira Akerman
October 22, 23 & 24, 8 pm to 10 pm.
Melpomene and Magazine
New Orleans, LA

Monday, October 10, 2011

jorie graham
To a Friend Going Blind

Today, because I couldn’t find the shortcut through,

I had to walk this town’s entire inner
perimeter to find
where the medieval walls break open
in an eighteenth century
arch. The yellow valley flickered on and off
through cracks and the gaps
for guns. Bruna is teaching me
to cut a pattern.
Saturdays we buy the cloth.
She takes it in her hands
like a good idea, feeling
for texture, grain, the built-in
limits. It’s only as an afterthought she asks
and do you think it’s beautiful?
Her measuring tapes hang down, corn-blond and endless,
from her neck.
When I look at her
I think Rapunzel,
how one could climb that measuring,
that love. But I was saying,
I wandered all along the street that hugs the walls,
a needle floating
on its cloth. Once
I shut my eyes and felt my way
along the stone. Outside
is the cashcrop, sunflowers, as far as one can see. Listen,
the wind rattles in them,
a loose worship
seeking an object,
an interruption. Sara,
the walls are beautiful. They block the view.
And it feels rich to be
inside their grasp.
When Bruna finishes her dress
it is the shape of what has come
to rescue her. She puts it on.