Encouraging a Lover in Every Possible Way

 

 

 

 

 

The text in this work is a poem by Carla Nappi from Uninvited: Talking Back to Plato, by Carrie Jenkins and Carla Nappi. Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press. 2020. These drawings are my contribution to The Uninvited Project, a collection of artworks curated by the authors, Carrie Jenkins and Carla Nappi, made in response to the book. Visit the Uninvited Project site for more information and great work by a variety of other artists. https://www.uninvitedproject.com/.

 

Commonplace Highlights: Mary Ann Caws, Apollinaire

 

 

 

Caws, Mary Ann. Metapoetics of the Passage: Architextures in Surrealism and After. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1982.

Louvered hideaways

Fraught with What's Wrought

Grates Mark the Spot

Buried Treasure: Call Before You Dig

The Shelf Holds My Interests

These are drawings I made between a few trips I made this past year to help my parents move and sell the house I grew up in. I salvaged a few forgotten belongings but these indecipherable scrawlings are largely devoted to reflections on a handful of objects that I've been carting around since childhood. Bidding this home farewell, put me into meditative high gear. That's what's happening here.

What's there to know about it? Wood, wrought iron, joinery, reappropriation of salvaged building materials: those materials and compulsions were synthesized into an idiosyncratic stew by the men in my family: my dad especially--but my grandfather and brother too, no doubt.

Know It When You Hear It

Omaha Bodies, Rub the Lamp

The Wayback Machine Is Hollow

Thick Skin for Thin Crowds

Soft Rock for Wood

Traveler and His Shadow

"Traveler and His Shadow" taken from Roof Slates and Other Poems of Pierre Reverdy, translated by Mary Ann Caws. Boston: Northeastern University Press (1981).

Two 4X12s

Handmade Mistakes

The Incomplete

This is my adaptation of a prose poem by Michel Fardoulis LaGarange
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The Incomplete

During that time we went to the poorly lighted back room of a bookstore. There, we labored to decipher ancient inscriptions on the eroded walls.

By doing so we hoped to enrich or supplement the knowledge we had already gained from conventional books.

The wall's writing referred only to the rudiments of archaic reading. There was a notably absence of long passages.

In that feeble light, however, the ongoing relationship between ourselves and the studious atmosphere of the room was enough to revive volumes of words, spelled by erased letters.

Open Mic Closed Mic

Up a Storm: Leatherproof

Up a Storm: Bobtail

 

 

Grand Opening