the a list

 This... is another in a series of small handmade books I've been building. This one is much more free form and blends collage, prints, stickers (yes lovely, lovely stickers - a childhood obsession) and other miscellaneous ingredients. 

Pronounced Aye-mē So, I'd like to introduce Ayeme, He was conceived in an overlap of body images drawn over the last year or so and a poem inspired by James Hannaham's book Pilot Impostor .  I feel this is shaping up to be a limited edition book release. More on that to come if things germinate. As the image suggests, Ayeme is also an overlap of pronouns, intended to illustrate the challenging mental gymnastics of identity.  While contemporaneous with the pronoun adjustments associated with gender identity, this is much more existential.  In its current draft, the opening stanza hints at the pronoun usage. I = the physical body me = the self - a collection of ideas It also explores the mysteries of birth to propose a way of conceptualizing  the body and self that exposes the existential conundrums that are at the root of our world view and have perpetually vexed philosophers.  Ayeme, if it blossoms, appears to be taking on a more basic form than Hannaham'...

  This little unconventionally unfolding book was inspired by my trip to San Francisco in May 2022 and a mild obsession with a rotary sign in Chestnut Hill.  The book contains a few words in English "We just wanted the universe and its perpetual perfect attendance" The book contains a multitude of words in Chinese characters cut from a San Francisco Chinese translation of of the Conservative newspaper Epoch Times. Knowing only a few things about the source of the Chinese characters San Francisco origin Chinese translation conservative Epoch Times May 2022 time frame Leads, at least in my mind, down many contradictory paths. Ultimately I'm forced to know very little, to have very limited foundation for any opinions, and I am forced to contend with my biases. 

Immersed And there was the day when I had been drowning for so long. Barely breathing, choosing the struggle. Then I looked at my brother sleeping on the cold hard ground below me. I would have marveled at his ability to float, If I hadn’t’ve found myself, feet on the ground. Breathing. Published on Rue Scribe