vagabond: burning shoulders

The exit from PAF was a churning blender swirl of a storm. Up at 6 from my Nariman wake up call and speeding off down the road with my doubleshot of espresso spilling onto my jeans. The train to Laon was quick and I deliriously carted my luggage into the train station toilet...resulting in drowned belongings.

My arrival at Le Gare du Nord was almost too fast suddenly placing me in the metro. I have a tendency to ignore the best laid plans, and determined to follow my sleepy intuition. Instead of waiting for Ikue at the corner cafe, like specified, I figured that since I was early I would just continue onward and eventually find her apartment. I must have been hiding in the countryside for too long.

My only plan for my arrival in Berlin was to see Joanne. There were no concrete sleeping plans, just an unconfirmed reservation at a hostel and the possibility waiting to hear from two friends with options for extra bedrooms. We separated, her on her way to an opening and, me on my way to the A&O hostel in Mitte.

More to follow...

she spoke about small sentences.

Space ship
invitation
smoke stack
unleavened translation
holiness
crooked sunnies
stained eyes
dirty sweater
Chinese boots
burnt food
imagery
courage
milk.



Celine said to me, "Do you want to see a special room?"




Invisible spaces that fall in the wilderness, destined to eventually never make a sound in my sight line. Purposeless. Welcomed imagery as I polish off more self hate. Her gift of nuance cooled my pistol of discouragement emptying the bullets on a cleared palate. Abilities were revitalized and I was able to see my reflection again.

I don't remember what had upset me that day.
I just remember Celine.




Celine Davenas
davenas.celine@gmail.com

Merce Cunningham

Almost ten years prior to his death...

The final BAND video

vocals -Valentina Desideri
guitar - Jacob Perkins
keyboard - Hana Miller
words - me

objects without qualities

Without community
individual agent of minutes
Ceaseless habits substituting embrace
inclusion denied usually
Fortified upon wish
and promises
Deriding my satiation as OTHER
Pilgrim
Days exist as finite monsters
Convince clocks and fashion a time
denying submission to the abusers
leaning on clock hands
Containing dismantling
rearranging surviving
resting on results unanticipated
New void
working
Produce within fruitful conditions

flight

I seek evening
Punishment for needy Narcissus
Darkness can scold
There, loose suspicious pout
Guilty accuser
Brimming cabbage head
Bobbing around for lurking denial
Imagining disguises
Refusing sight’s immersion
Fear repeats
Failed inventor

week in review

Bastille Day in St. Erme, France

The fireworks on Bastille Day were definitely more than I expected. In St. Colombe two years prior, the display was in a small pasture and lasted less than five minutes. In attendance was the town's population of Kati the owner of Vival and possibly two or three other families. St. Erme's fireworks were impressive and certainly made me feel connected to my PAF group.



The next day, Catherine and Christophe, the couple that ran my previous residence, drove over to St. Erme to visit me. They brought productive news on Artistay (their new service that guides artists to find an appropriate residence and working space in France) and also the official and unfortunate news of the "for sale" sign on Cat'art. The plan is to empty my Swiss bank account and purchase it. Ha! Perfectly flanked by the Pyrenees and truly equipped with enormous studio space, it is a shame to know that a place is being sold.

I'm headed to Berlin on the 24th for Joanne's birthday. Leaving PAF will be bittersweet. Currently, it can become rare for me to have extended time for my work, therefore I will miss this place. I am creating a routine within this country as a solid place to work. At Cat'art, "work" was primarily a time to grieve and discuss as Baldwin called it my "unexamined pain", and now as an emerging artist I am able to watch my stagnancy fade in the distance, allowing me to seek a new environment. And the repeated lesson is that of respect--for my work, myself, my time. PAF churns on-- bubbling, bouncing, and baking-- and I know that I will return. Possibly in a month, considering I am homeless until December. Now, I am eager to see some cities. The urbanite living within me craves crowded sidewalks and bookstores.

The Genet project has a working title Saintete: a talent show. I am in love with the research. For a moment I thought my gender ballet would need to be a conjured caricature, and I was willing and prepared for that. However within Genet's writings as a beggar and prisoner, he discusses "the cultivation of sores", which is essentially the source and scorched edges of my final project. It deserves my time.

And apparently, there has been intense deliberation concerning American Healthcare reform...after all the fete in my inbox from the NYTimes, will someone just tell me how freelancers are going to get affordable healthcare? Please keep it simple.

Obama's NAACP speech continues to illuminate how valuable his presidency will be towards positive influence for black Americans. Not only is he an emblem that opportunity exists for the marginalized, but he places the responsibility of its discovery within our hands. Dream big. His words,"I want them aspiring to be scientists and engineers, doctors and teachers, not just ballers and rappers. I want them aspiring to be a Supreme Court Justice. I want them aspiring to be President of the United States.”




urban old Hollywood ballerina turned expatriate dancing detective...

but, still a Third World Diva Girl!
thank you bell hooks.

PAF 2009

ENCORE – 06/09 update

You are astounding and extremely peculiar.
Falling from your ascendant place.
Welcome.
Contact is made and I see beyond my recurring blur.
Enormous and valuable eye to skin, skin to eye.
Follow me, refuting earthly clarity,
And enjoy this disappearing moment.
(finite boundaries disregarded)
This jars my position, forcing my attention inward, upward, outward, towards you.
In your direction.
Without permission, we believe again.
Togetherness, unified, personified, objectified.
Allow me in, please.
Skin exudes shadow, warming the cradle my chest creates.
Your tips meet at my spine without tangling linen.
I inhale this; my desire’s dizziness contented by your weight.
Maintain, by lifting me towards heightened viscera.
Pulped bosom contract and members blossom into raunchy and delicious exaggeration.
Delirious delivery deserves deeper thrust.
Hip to hip, piped tree limbs smolder, engulfing.
Separately.
Combustion occurs.
Breath collapsed kisses abound and envelope the ocean of mannequin parts.
Teeth separate, penetrate, puncture.
Exit, release. Exit, release,
Remaining within.
I collect your ribs in my mouth and discuss this matter in my cerebral mechanism,
Hoping that this vision of you is everlasting.
My bones clench upon the rows of your bones, tasting Adam, waiting for it to stain.
The innocence from your closed intent is mist decaying my chemicals of doubt and despair.
I cannot control myself.
Your hand's palms add stress to the fat of my hips,
Leaving your milky skin to curdle as I descend.

This is moonlight.

Nas and Kelis

What went wrong?

The Genderless Blues

the PAF band
Jacob Perkins (vocals, guitar)
Hana Miller (harmonica)
Valentina Desideri (drums)

finite monsters

This morning, I have reached the last page in my notebook.

objects without qualities

Without community
individual agent of minutes
Ceaseless habits substituting embrace
inclusion denied usually
Fortified upon wish
and promises
Deriding my satiation as OTHER
Pilgrim
Days exist as finite monsters
Convince clocks and fashion a time
denying submission to the abusers
leaning on clock hands
Containing dismantling
rearranging surviving
resting on results unanticipated
New void
working
Produce within fruitful conditions

My days are numbered here--10 to be exact. I have taken the title for the above verse from an "object project" at PAF, that I contributed a tiny bit of time to.

The other night, I made a list of the artists that have come and gone, since I have arrived and there have been about 20 individuals, three couples, and two large groups groups--some with ten, some with seventeen...a revolving door!

Federica left today and she said that it is unfortunate because she is only now beginning to feel at home. These things take time. I was sitting in the garden a few evenings ago, and inhaled the gray night and exhaled deep comfort. Only within the week. I was surprised to discover that there may have been an absence...or perhaps, a growing fulfillment.

PAF 2009

Tomorrow is the 4th of July. I believe it is my third "Independence Day" not in America. I rotate inside of the disdain for being an American every few days or hours here.

Green, green grass. All can seem mundane on other shores.

My brain expands based on my tried and true work environment--the French countryside. Survival wears a new hat for this New Yorker--gratitude and greetings in other languages and the varying systems of etiquette that incorporate the strange dance of traditions and colorings, certainly not mutually exclusive to this country. One of my hometown's finest--No shirt. No shoes. No service. One must make attempts to truly enjoy your experience and, in my opinion, display some visitor humility.

I choose to frantically assimilate--foolish in my need to feel "experienced and knowledgeable". This resulting in some example of humiliation, zipping me back to outsider posture.

Truly, to respect and enjoy yourself and others--taste, try, temper all that is available to you, remaining grateful of any invitation. Some places will suit you better than others--and remaining within the sunlight of travel experimentation is allowed to those that never master the formula of location.

Keep testing.

Less Gender?! Genderless.

Swedish parents raising their child as genderless. "Pop" will determine his gender when ready.

A true guinea pig, but honestly I am curious about the outcome.