Allston Skirt Gallery

May, 2007

and and and





untitled, 1999-2007
89 matted and framed photos (light-jet c-prints and polaroids) on plinth
approximately 28 x 48 x 23 inches


untitled, 2005-2007
1 pair of dice (lamb's knuckles) on table
approximately 24 1/2 x 40 x 40 inches



untitled, 2000-2006
light-jet c-print photo with portfolio folder, framed, on shelf
approximately 43 x 27 x 10 inches


untitled, 1998-2007
33 attached sheets of text
approximately 11 x 95 inches

this is a whole series of short (1-10 word phrases) each on a separate piece of paper that have been attached, one overlapping the next.
as you can see the texts are at different heights. here is the 'complete' text ("/" signifies the next sheet of paper):

Repeated isolated gestures / equal / the one from which we came / but the one who needs / not knowing then /
to try to reconcile / not having this time / Not wanting to say a story / It begins / All at once / repeated / Some sort of pointer /
narrative / Everyone sees it all / Often overlooked / Thankful for the will / Left without anything / In conversations /
It begins / it repeats / Not before and after but during / With years as a guide / Important questions / This, that just goes on and on /
The nicest little burden / What balances out with what? / not after / all that knowledge / No response expected / I forget that word /
but I really have never figured out how or whether I can lead a duel existence / and still there's no way to know. / all the bets




this is a rearrangement of the gallery's front shelf, with the addition of several stacks of specifically
arranged collections of paper and 10 artist books (on the top shelf)


untitled, 1997-2007
two glass mirrors (one left to get progressively dirtier and one is kept clean)
approximately 60 1/2 x 36 x 5 inches


untitled, 1997-2007
approximately 54 groupings in assorted media on table
approximately 31 x 96 x 56 inches


untitled, 2000-2007
8 groupings in assorted media, 7 of which are framed
approximately 60 1/2 x 139 1/2 x 23 1/2 inches


the two text pieces on the far left are slight variants. one says:

and the other says:






untitled, 1998-2007
wooden stake and hardcase briefcase with approximately 10,000 photos
installation dimensions variable


untitled, 2001-2007
1 stack of diagrams, 1 stack of original photographs, 1 stack of found photographs,
1 stack of clippings, 1 stack of found papers, 1 storage box of mixed-source papers,
1 light box, 1 cigar box of notes and train tickets, 1 photo box of glass,
1 photo box with catalogue clipping and plastic protective sleeve, 2 empty photo boxes,
1 painted wood box with approximately 235 ink on Fabriano paper drawings,
1 red tool box with approximately 380 photos, all in bookshelf
approximately 26 1/2 x 96 x 24 inches


untitled, 2003-2007
felt on bed with baseball, rubber, plastic, pods, cow's knees, lamb's knuckles, eraser, tin foil and paper on table
approximately 54 x 72 x 96 inches





untitled, 1998-2007
2 enameled bags, 28 stenciled t-shirts, 6 painted suits, 4 painted shirts, 4 empty hangers, 12 pairs of red socks,
4 pairs of running sneakers, all in armoire
approximately 94 x 37 1/2 x 24 inches


untitled, 2001-2007
1 malfunctioning clock, 1 cigar box with approximately 320 photos, 1 metal box with approximately 150 polaroids,
3 DVDs in plastic cases, 1 tin box with approximately 450 photos, 4 stacks of mixed-source paper, plastic and cardboard,
1 doorknob, 1 piece of legible text on paper, 1 stack of illegibly printed text on paper, 1 note on note paper,
1 receipt and 1 metal washer, all in and on desk, side cabinet and stool
approximately 36 1/2 x 59 1/2 x 34 inches





the text on the desk is:

I met him a little under two years ago.
We got along very well from the beginning.
I visited him several times in Europe.
He was very generous to me.
He took me around, explained everything, translated anything.
I think he saw himself as my mentor.
He also saw how the relationship was more dynamic.
This summer I met his brother.
This summer I have spent a considerable amount of time with both of them.
His brother has HIV and some serious complications because of it.
His brother has been living with intense pain for two years.
His brother is stabilized in some ways, but the stability is at a level far less than what he was used to.
It is very painful for him to go about his daily life.
My friend and his brother are twins.
I want to say they were twins, but they still are.
My friend is full of life, knowledge, generousity, compassion, love and inquisitiveness.
His brother is full of pain.
They are both beautiful caring sensitive men.
I told my friend that I was interested in taking a portrait photo of the two of them.
As soon as I said it, I realized it was perhaps inappropriate.
Part of the beauty in his brother, to me, is the waif-like quality of his current appearance.
This can be mistaken for a purely cold appreciation of the death-be-upon-him look.
It is not.
It is an appreciation for the strength with which his brother has fought a war within his own body.
It is an appreciation for the strength with which he thinks and feels and fights every day.
It is an appreciation for the resulting reaction that his appearance has taken and the strength it signifies.
This is hard to convey between languages.
I think my friend was actually pained by my interest in the physical presence.
It, perhaps to him, is a reminder of how their lives are not now what they used to be.
I left it up to my friend to decide whether he thought his brother would have interest.
I am not sure if my friend is thinking about his brother's thoughts on the matter or his own.
My friend has been asked by his brother to help him die.
This process involves many things and is very difficult for my friend.
My friend's brother engaged me in a conversation about pain, suffering, and dying.
Three of us were with him: my friend, a friend of his and myself.
We sat at a table in front of a window, eating breakfast as he was talking.
He was wearing a white t-shirt and a white sarong.
The window he was sitting in front of let in the whitest most pure light.
It illuminated him.
As he was talking, we ate.
As he was talking, I wished I could photograph him.
As he was talking, I felt shame for thinking of art when this man was talking about pain, suffering and death.
He was talking with such forcefulness, such determination, but also with such serenity.
It was not the time or place to be thinking about art but the topic, his appearance, his clothing and the light all kept me thinking about art.
It was so clear to him what he was talking about that I began to feel it was ok to think in terms of documents.
He was an artist.
There were remnants of this practice everywhere - pigments, palettes, paintings, etc.
At the moment that I became more comfortable with my thoughts on photographing him, he spoke of his final performance.
Initially, I was horrified.
It felt so petty.
It felt so weak.
It felt so weird that he would think of pain, suffering and death in terms of art.
It made me question my thoughts on my thoughts of the situation, which I had found beautiful enough to photograph.
He explained his mentality of his death as a performance.
Abstract but to the point, it made sense to me.
It was saddening because I could see the pain on my friend's face.
I had no interest in photographing that sadness.