food stamps

i am so drawn to those buildings downtown where the upper stories are either filled in with brick, boarded up, or rusted shut. a faded business sign is all that is left of what the building contained , and the first level sells cheap knock-offs of designer handbags. the long since out-of-business department stores which were once frequented by mostly rich white ladies have now become little beauty shops owned by asian families that sell wigs, oil sheen, and cocoa butter, and markets that sell fish and fried chicken. the "beautification" process that is currently happening leaves buildings stripped or cut in half, their skeletons exposed, with each layer of material showing like layers of the earth. most of their histories are demolished or forgotten. i ponder at the layers of people all running around amidst these giant brick ghosts, all busy making the city run. i drive by spectating at those at the bus stop, those walking to work, and those living in the doorways, and i wonder at the histories each one of them holds. i want to project images of the people on the vast darkness of the antiquated windows with painted over glass and missing panes.
today is wednesday and i tried to apply for food stamps but the office of social services and public health was closed.

felix gonzalez torres

the cuban- american artist felix gonzalez torres dealt ideas of impermanence, specifically through audience interaction, in his simple yet romantic work. large stacks of paper squares offered as souvenirs to the viewers gave new meaning to the appropriated earlier minimalist style. Though, like the concepts of minimalism, the work is style about the viewer's experience of the work in its space, the perishable material make each geometric form more ephemeral. Similarly, his enormous piles of candy also slowly transform as one person after another takes away piece by piece, speaking to notions of the ever-evolving state of art, or of an individual work of art. on a more personal note, the candy makes the silent statement; " you are taking a piece of candy from an AIDS infected homosexual."

the idea of the keepsake, which will gradually fade and eventually disappear completely speaks to me in terms of my own work in dealing with the idea of the photograph itself. you can hold a small photograph in your hand. you can take it with you. it is a palpable fragment of someone's life, yet will ultimately cease to exist, unless reproduced. and yet then it becomes something new, altered from its original state.