Daphne Groeneveld in Tom Ford photographed by Sebastian Kim for Numero Russia #2, April 2013
the only consolations i have about this long distance relationship right now are that i haven’t shaved my legs in a month and i just ate an enormous bar of chocolate and didn’t have to share it with anyone
in someone else’s house, as your hosts stand politely in the shadows. you thank them as you leave.
at the train station, where the conductor smiles and says yes, he’ll take a picture.
in the airport with his best friend, so no tears allowed.
in the airport again, but this time you’re the one going through security and there’s no way to hold it back. the man in the elevator turns to the other direction.
in the airport before, at the beginning. these tears are nervous tears; bittersweet.
in the hostel, while a stranger sleeps on the couch next to you.
in your neighborhood, down the street from your house. the rain is just starting to fall and this is the first time.
at the bus station, you feel yourself melting into a puddle, but then you pick yourself up drive home alone.
at least every goodbye has a hello: friends squealing at the airport or a cautious hug and quick kiss or “what was the movie on the flight? how was the food?” or even a nervous introduction, that just needed time to become something special.
when everything is sad, there is a snake inside of you, squeezing and squeezing
i can’t get any of my feelings about anything in order, so i just lift one foot at a time.
Joseph Kosuth, One and Three Chairs, 1965
From The Museum of Modern Art:
A chair sits alongside a photograph of a chair and a dictionary definition of the word chair. Perhaps all three are chairs, or codes for one: a visual code, a verbal code, and a code in the language of objects, that is, a chair of wood. But isn’t this last chair simply … a chair? Or, as Marcel Duchamp asked in hisBicycle Wheel of 1913, does the inclusion of an object in an artwork somehow change it? If both photograph and wordsdescribe a chair, how is their functioning different from that of the real chair, and what is Kosuth’s artwork doing by adding these functions together? Prodded to ask such questions, the viewer embarks on the basic processes demanded by Conceptual art.
“The art I call conceptual is such because it is based on an inquiry into the nature of art,” Kosuth has written. “Thus, it is … a working out, a thinking out, of all the implications of all aspects of the concept ‘art,’ … Fundamental to this idea of art is the understanding of the linguistic nature of all art propositions, be they past or present, and regardless of the elements used in their construction.” Chasing a chair through three different registers, Kosuth asks us to try to decipher the subliminal sentences in which we phrase our experience of art.
If it is Sunday or Monday and I am just gazing off at nothing with squinty eyes, I am either writing the poem due on Tuesday in my head or trying to remember what I forgot to do/bring/take/eat/give/buy etc.
witnessing this in action right now.