Facades & performances falling away. Personas building then flipping on a dime. These atmospheres are stale, rather spindly, yet stable for a while; they're something like props for the players. Then a flip. And VIOLA! Each player becomes a mere prop for chintzy history, ragged monuments, and strings of dumb bars. Doubles, Stand-ins, & Walk-ons catwalk, sashay and huddle. They glare at the Artists. Each envying the other. Resenting each other, and yeah. Sometimes they end up fucking each other. All the while, masks come and go, dissolving even as they are glued on by Makeup or Costuming then desperately clutched — (over)relied upon. Needed. Love and Violence shoot out of our eye sockets turning our faces into masks. Our masked faces become divine fountains the café dwellers pretend to ignore. They ignore them for real too.
At once a Beautiful and terrorizing piece, Yolanda. Raw and refined. Absolutely transportive!
Your comment is poetry. Yes, "ragged monuments" and we play with them, we must. And create after what they leave. I love messing with my personas... playing with their neuroses... Thank you so much, Elliot! I want beauty, ... and if you have to write about Abramovic you need to agitate your own fears a little bit. :)
love the pigtails
A special level of cuteness here.. haha.. Thank you!
Very
https://youtu.be/OnX7N7Dyexo?si=2kHuTUqS3v_mTTOC
Loveeee how it sounds! I need this for my next chapter for sure! … taking notes…………Thank you! =D
Facades & performances falling away. Personas building then flipping on a dime. These atmospheres are stale, rather spindly, yet stable for a while; they're something like props for the players. Then a flip. And VIOLA! Each player becomes a mere prop for chintzy history, ragged monuments, and strings of dumb bars. Doubles, Stand-ins, & Walk-ons catwalk, sashay and huddle. They glare at the Artists. Each envying the other. Resenting each other, and yeah. Sometimes they end up fucking each other. All the while, masks come and go, dissolving even as they are glued on by Makeup or Costuming then desperately clutched — (over)relied upon. Needed. Love and Violence shoot out of our eye sockets turning our faces into masks. Our masked faces become divine fountains the café dwellers pretend to ignore. They ignore them for real too.
At once a Beautiful and terrorizing piece, Yolanda. Raw and refined. Absolutely transportive!
Your comment is poetry. Yes, "ragged monuments" and we play with them, we must. And create after what they leave. I love messing with my personas... playing with their neuroses... Thank you so much, Elliot! I want beauty, ... and if you have to write about Abramovic you need to agitate your own fears a little bit. :)
Gracias traductor de Google.
Me encantan las fotos.
¡Muchas gracias, loren!… Keep translating, hehe… :)