The Heat Today Was Unbearable

The sun was so hot, the paint bubbled on the house and I thought it would catch fire.  Dry heat.  As the paint scorched, a chemical smell permeated the air.  I poured water on the clapboards.  111 degrees in October.

When the Bed Bugs Came

You do not see them.  The bloody sheets in the morning are the only clue.  We cannot leave because we are the hosts.  All fabric has to be washed and dried and put in bags.  The pesticide is sprayed on the undersides of the bed and dresser drawers.  Our home is not our own.  Ashamed.  Trapped.

Electrical Fire in the Bathroom

Flames shot out of the ceiling and then black smoke.  Not sure how old the wiring was.  Bad burning smell.  And then silence.  I hope I don't have to rewire the whole house.  How long have you lived without lights?  When did your home almost burn down?

Two Worlds

The real and unreal are coming closer together.

We Are Electrified

Having lights creates a kind of life in the house.  A warmth.  It feels good to turn on the lights.  It is more like home.    Do you imagine your home with the lights on?  

Large Light

Sometimes it is dark and you need to see.  To see really well.

When you burn the furniture, to stay warm, do you pick your least favorites first?

When the space inside your house is not enough.  The rooms are fine, but they are too close to the other rooms where people- your people- are loud or annoying or even just breathing.  Creating rooms of comparable volume, like tents, that could exist away from each other.  You know like in ET when they have the plastic tent set up in the driveway.  And since this is about skin in the game, I am making them with paintings.  My paintings.  They are the perfect object, because I know them like lovers and though I have moved on they represent a dream and a vision.  Each painting you make is the best you can do at that moment.  And I am cutting them up.  Mixing up periods from the last five years.  And sewing.  It was tremendously sad moving the scissors through the canvas.  And it felt like a violation.  I was not meant to know the sound of cutting a painted canvas, like flesh.