Catalog for my solo exhibition "No Solid Body is Lighter Than Air"
Inside this hand made portfolio is one unique ortholith transparency, introduction essay by Lee Rae Walsh and 13 loose digital ink jet prints
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dear reader, observer, poet, critic, drawer, gatherer, believer or not –
dear dan,
to make sense of this life: we are reaching. in a state of atmospheric pain, unrest – we thrash. we are selfish in our attempts: we must leave a trace. to behold an imprint of ourselves, a mark made – a mirror we hold up against our own mortality (maybe, too, against the sliver in our hearts that secretly knows: most of us will fail). and ah, the cosmos are the greatest place to ejaculate. nothing will write us back, but we persist. a golden disc sent out into space – as if this is so important, it must be scribed; we beg: it will be understood.
art is many things, but it is so much endurance. for some more than others. process as the rubric: a figure eight slingshot, our own snot rocket. the material mucus will never stop. rid, shelf, begin again. what is it to ask others to find meaning in our natural excretion? fuck, if anything, i admire those who keep trying. and btw, god, you never told us everything would be this embarrassing.
off leash, here at the edge of the field: a page pulled from fixer goo, breath-fog reveals the moon. in this light we are soooo becoming. we close our eyelids in the sun, believing – in this beam – we are beloved. you’ve been wrapping slices up like cake. little presents, moon rocks for lickin. for those who like to lick, too. apparently they put the sound of a kiss on the golden record. when we all turn to dust – a bit of mine tucked in this crevice – it may have been just enough…to have witnessed the expanse.
anyway, here's to no quitting. to the frivolous attempts toward meaning.
to the sound of the slow shutter,
the waiting and seeing
to not knowing.
to the wild desire to find out.
from the field,
lee rae walsh
