Sep. 25, 2013. 3:32 am

I’m being driven to a place far away. 

Through farmlands that look like Tuscany.

I’m dropped off at a very modern mansion. 

The type of house you could imagine a modern conservative wealthily family living in. 

I’m now part of a group of about a dozen boys.

We do everything together there, everything. 

There are two men who watch over us. 

Like teachers, one a bit more proactive than the other.

When this one leaves for a time, 

The other one has has line up and pose for advertising photographs. 

It is only until after this session I notice all the  large  poster-size images of us printed around the house. 

The landscape outside is very foggy. and dewy, and grey. 

We’re all in sweaters, simple. 

We’re all also of varying ages. 

We’re walking back from somewhere, some activity.

Along dirt roads through fields,

and gradually along more complicated areas. 

Theres one of us who’s sort of like the leader, 

or maybe just because he’s one of the older kids

I’m about fifteen, but we progress I’m gradually younger. 

He asks for “The gun”

-“Did anybody bring the gun,”
 

To my surprise, someone hands him a rifle. 

we’re wandering through and area like the condominium my dad lives in, 
through a hilly area with lots of trees and layered townhouses. 

Then we’re walking though scattered houses. 

I realize we’re not going the conventional route

It seems as though we’re anxious because we maybe we’re being followed. 

We take to going many alternative ways

going though alleys

and climbing over things

We start to move from wall to wall 

from building to building, jotting from one spot to another

as if on a mission. 

or rather, as if spotted, we’d be “caught”

At one point he instructs us to slowly and quietly climb over a guys roof. 

He seems so calm as if it wasn’t a big deal. 

we one by one go up

I remember my hands against the vinyl roof shingles. 

I was one of the last few to go up. 

He asks;

"have they heard us?"

One kid goes to peek into the window

“yea, I think so,

they’re looking at the ceiling

I think they’re wondering what’s making the noise…”

He instructs us to continue walking over the rooftop. 
“make sure they can hear your footsteps…”

We all try to make our footsteps lightly more prominent. 
I remember them sounding similarly to tacks hitting a wooden floor. 

I see through the window, 

the kid shouts in a whisper:
“I think he’s looking for his gun” 

“good,”

We all scramble and slide off the roof as fast as we can. 
at this point my age is younger. 

We’re all running as fast as possible to the woods nearby. 

I hear the gun shots, but everyone is still around me as we’re running to the though the fields. 

Almost everyone has made it to the bushes, 

I’m one of the last ones

"Come on!" I shout in my mind;

I turn happy to watch my friend come in through the trees- and he is shot and falls. 

I can’t move

10

Thesis Piece: 

Large Etching: 

"He said it was about creating a wall of noise"

Small Etching:

"If you don’t know the words just scream at the top of your lungs"

Book:

"I will destroy you"

Video:

Under the Pylons

Miniatures:

The Sisters’ Houses & Dream of Fire

10

Would you believe I’d never do it again…

Aquatint Etching

2 x 15 in.

——————————————————————————————————-

Based off of the neighborhoods of Kingston/Forty Fort, PA. 

For my birthday, my mother pitched in for me to finally get to see my personal Hero, Patti Smith.
I never knew who she was until I saw her speak at my cousin’s graduation two years ago, In the speeches before she took the podium, I spent a good half hour studying her portrait in the ceremony brochure. "Her uniform is similar to the look I’m going for, kinda like a neo-puritan- just wish I had that hat, that’s such a good hat." 
"Photographed by Robert Mappelthrope,
" read the caption. We had studied a shot of his in my critical reading class with Anne Chen. "Wow, she must be some kinda big deal then.”
She stood up  after being introduced by President Macy "…and with the looks, of a model, she is a greek goddess reincarnated as Poe’s raven"
She took the podium, gripping the sides like a southern preacher, spoke first about the importance of dental care, and how her generation didn’t quite realize its significant impact on one’s quality of life. She talked a bit about her life, how if she was born a day later her mother would have won a "free refrigerator!" but she was ready to be born and knew that now was the time-
I was so immediately entranced; "who is this lady with a poddy mouth worse than mine, and sings like Lou Reed?" I thought to my self as she performed Grateful. She started talking to us about the struggles of being an artist "and man, you guys are gonna get shit on…and believe me, cause I’ve been shit on…" She continued to say how it is in the times that we are struggling that we should be happiest, because it is then that we constitute what it is we desire in our lives. She went on to talk about the artist William Blake, his strife, and his constant drive to work, she then performed In My Blakean Year. 
As she was up, I kept making sure not to take my eyes off her, and to not to look at the super screen recording the stage. I wanted to remember her not a video of her.
When she finished, I shot up and clapped. Since that summer in 2011 she has been the greatest consistent artistic impact on my life. There’s virtually not a move I make without being in some way influenced by her. I wrote poetry like there was fire shooting out of my pen, I practiced guitar, I made work, and now I can truly identify myself as the maker I am. 

A little while ago I drew this on the back of my place mat while eating dinner with my grandparents. 

My grandmother looked at it gave me one of the most interesting reads of my work I’ve had in a while; 
She said that it was almost as though the boy is looking away from the tree in thought- as the curve in the tree echoes the curve of the boy’s back, it is almost as though the tree is the manifestation of the boy’s thoughts. She said the tire swing resembled a noose, and perhaps in his childhood; this child sees his outlet of joy as almost a means of suicide. 

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