you too, moon (or, xoxo)
composer:
hardy f
for ::
reckoning
white beer
"romantic, not disgusting, yet"
--
MANGOLIA
Sunday afternoons at yr bedroom window
watch yr hips grind to th CBC
there in yr garden
at th’end of july
th world is no better than a case
th city drifts away
sweating yet coasting
casting a shadow
--
ERIKA TH WHITE
she knows black-and-tan pours
were something I could never master. she
walks my body and leaves me
sitting in a pub, lake above, drinking pints
of guilt
since when did VIP mean a matress w/o sheets in the middle of a dance floor
she says it’s sick and over b/c I am so mad,
full of unprincipled schemes and I won’t be coming
home tonight. I believe it’s over
because I filmd it w/o saying
I threw her nipples in th lake so
deep in th breast milk as I could come
but she in viking gown
as if some lover hunter
came back to rub me out
lower back tattoo shuffling down
to th watering hole
floating on her lake. she’s
barely out of her mother’s pussy
and already talks of marriage
and I came already once in her lakewater
it is astonishing
but I cannot fall asleep in her black hair. a
cinnamonlioness w/ smoke eyes floating
around in my come lake
but already came
and she has this yeah
yeah yeah
rooted so deep
--
ALLERGIES SUCK
I rubbed lobster stock
on my cock
sher lips swelled
when she gave me head
--
OMERTA
- have you had any animal experiences?
- yes
this poem is about regression and how
regession and I pulld th lime over her red
Queen Charlotte hair
this poem is about th local honey trade
and how there are about five stages to grieving
that need open space
like an omlette on a white plate
this is where I regress so much so
that her omlettes still make me sad
this is where I’ll be right w/ you after
I feel th strength
of strong beer from Quebec. for instance,
this week I don’t care
in rapids down a red river
this is where I resolve to be
an honest flowerman and start eating / stop
eating so much sausage and drink strong
beer from Quebec until I passes out
these old photos show Canada
all around us. we had so much in common
w/ those dead ships in Georgian Bay
and it’s not just th fact that I ended
up at th bottom of all this
--
Dasha, I cldnt help but ask
what is th right age
to be fistd
--
STILL BIRTH IN A FIELD
th night is as dark as th whole shit
and I’m heading out to kill myself
a calf to keep under th sheets
next to my family history
th night is white Germanic wrath
frozen and distant but smacking me
on th head, slowing me down --
a song w/ steps but no synths
I was just keeping my mouth shut
spreading my legs for work and liver-caring
for th cycles of black eyes
that send me North Sea herring
light and heat were paid
but frantic chemicals past dusk
sent me swimming on horseback
beaneath spiralling towers of bone
th’ancient matrix, streaked w-perversion
and strength. my knees buckle at th thought
of moving forward, so I change course
to a time
when veteranians were gods and on th ready
--
NEVER KNEW UNCONDITIONAL BEFORE
What happened to Jainism?
I even stopped eating butterflies for you
and developed a pattern deficiency
in the process
new connections in communication
You fed me black pills th last dedicate after the Odepus had died down in a radio death common broadcast no, but th problem is your fucked is not necessarily my fucked, unless of course we are fucking, no longer a subjective ceremony looked at each other Carrying groceries cold hands As an h intellectual I stated plainly stated they wld much prefer independent cold mouths
and locks actorCome out white. Where is this non-violence you promised me were Warsaw flowers astle / cottage / gallows We, that celebate dog-sleep you pland for us. and you came home w/ a perfect man named Job. As for your question -- Yes, one day you will be fucked, and sharing an internal space and on your face
--
YO LOV
believe me I said to her
breeding is perfectly natural
on a first date
on a dirty carpet
--
SILENIGHT Chirstmas 2009
I press shift and nothing happens.
O holy night I drink a finger of scotch
and nothing happens. All is calm and
all is darkly circling and I think of a friend
in th north. I press love and all is bright. I
have a another finger and virgins gather. I
hang my head and start counting the shepherd’s flock. Nearby
on a table goose liver is gently crossing rye bread. Th
sheperd lifts his feet in a way so seductive the holy infant sings.
In heavnly peace and holiness I
cannot get enough silent
--
RUSSIA (you walk a little slow with your pants around your knees)
Sitting there in her orange push-up bra I unleashed an intense pattern of words designed to hurt her. Persimmon! Dior! Honeymoon! Slave Lake! Felt it
might keep her close. th golden
doorknobs unturned
like yolks outside th future
bring dior goth small white persimmon russia cherrywood golden doorknob. like yolks, or suns,
or oranges
sleeping in my truck next to the Thompson River (thanks life)
listz staring at my camera w-green eyes. german expressionism had already made a mess of my sheets and now life ahead violently then attacked by police.
Gasp. God. why can't
tonight stone and wood be
I'm testing my body for snowflakes. open and hair, golden as urine
in like th sun. her shoulders. wodka, god, work wine, some more god
“the problem love are the best things in the world… being overconfident you attract a lot of women and they get mad and frustrated at faith . . you have no want some stavanger glamour her life idea what will happen to a woman . . . I think I know
--
love holic
no matter how hard you work
you are still a victim. blood is
she inserts her name
sucks a joint
through her canines
drinks red wine
th skinny truth so thin
I, morning, drinking,
will, try, to be, there, for you.
using th best reasons I can
made a suicide
pact w/ salmon. feelings, feelings, feelings
hands dirty from digging potatoes
beckoning her every Chanel channel
every time I raise my hand
a killer whale surfaces
say denile five times fast
breeding white dukes in denial. These men
who emerge from my body and become heroes,
great writers. and last out is this
dirty animal is a love song and red lips
--
POETTA GRIM
Poet means you’re deadkissin boys up by th paddlewheel on a –30 Prince George night. on th clock and wasted around kissin dead boys to entertain your tora de amo / rapping
your cold fingers on th young hims from th reading. using a thin layer of elbow grease to open th gaps you perceive in their minds & circling like a rooster of dawnless choke / but poet
you dream sir that you are a salmon struggling gently in a marinade of dill and such. or a glass of chardonnay sweating b/w th fingers of a woman’s right hand
oh yer frozen river lacks punctuation at yer
fishing hole dangling th line again thinking abt last year’s collapse & this year’s complexion. thinking abt buying a round for th’oily friends clining to yer back
-- say, hardy, can you take th salmon out of the marinade & pour me another glass of wine ?
ah, this date so perfect I stare across her lovely backyard and compose a poem abt stuffing her asshole w/ th fresh mint that grows so silently nearby
oh poet forget abt th sunset dram, th 808 synth blues, th live lobster, th sliced lemon, th seawater subjects, th Carver kitchen, th garlic stems, th young cocks,
th love fines, th damage done, th station pain, th prime rib and pinot noir kisses, th warho seeds, th avocado scars
forget abt them you you have enough hairy holes & limp lines to perform
another poem for these Prince George boys /
hurrah !
--
EGGS
Juicy Christ is crawling on th carpet
practically draak
coverd in hair
and morning light
last night
we chased th goat
er
we watchd war movies
er
we jerkd each other off
we listend
to throat singers
they are th best
c’mon. . . work that ass, Juicy
crawling around
on th living room floor. watching you
is like making love
man, I thought I told you
we are just eggs
coverd in hair. get up. you promised
you cld handle
seeing my cock
--
TH GOAL IS TO GET MORE HERRING PEOPLE FROM MY GENERATION INTO
13 August 2011
25 December 2007
goodnight father christmas
two percocet. three glasses of cab
sav. two episodes of grey's
anatomy [ I can't believe he
crash. ]
two t-threes. th close quarters
of because. three lakes. seventeen
candles. one rusting cross
on my neck. one black
rise. twenty-eight points. three-methyl-
oxymorphone kisses on my red bag. one swastika
misshapen. th hound
is awake
one more glass
down another night. and th wall, do
not forget th [ black blanket ] wall
sav. two episodes of grey's
anatomy [ I can't believe he
crash. ]
two t-threes. th close quarters
of because. three lakes. seventeen
candles. one rusting cross
on my neck. one black
rise. twenty-eight points. three-methyl-
oxymorphone kisses on my red bag. one swastika
misshapen. th hound
is awake
one more glass
down another night. and th wall, do
not forget th [ black blanket ] wall
13 December 2007
his balls
he possesses awesome balls
balls as beautiful and clear as rainwater
there is artistry in th unfolding of his balls
balls that shake us like a death in th family
13 September 2007
convo w-GP circa 2007 fireside [sweetwater]
19 August 2007
10 August 2007
06 August 2007
05 August 2007
every day / any more
th way I see it I got three choices
th way I see it I got three choices
th way I see it I got three choices
/ or I cld jump out
my first story
window -- or
lack
there
of
it
th way I see it I got three choices
th way I see it I got three choices
/ or I cld jump out
my first story
window -- or
lack
there
of
it
04 August 2007
114
th lemons that are not for children. my best
shot is I will
sleep until september. I need a change
of scenery. high school was not
as easy as it sounds. one breath after another after
listening to enough graham parsons to kill a lover. guido
addd a little piece of history & we ate it w-
creme fraiche & chives. garden fresh stella -- "go there & have a pint
for me."
I can’t write fighting
these tomatos...
regrets? yea -- every single
day ( I’m not even
that sex-crazed -- th giver, th
clash [long distance callers make
long distance calls] are everything as usual
for th first time you feel again. I leave early b-c
I don’t want to be left. fighting one
on one ( wrap my arms around
her neck her neck -- th’arms I use I use to cut meat
& open wine. a place open until 3 a.m.
where I think I am laughing
blue
shot is I will
sleep until september. I need a change
of scenery. high school was not
as easy as it sounds. one breath after another after
listening to enough graham parsons to kill a lover. guido
addd a little piece of history & we ate it w-
creme fraiche & chives. garden fresh stella -- "go there & have a pint
for me."
I can’t write fighting
these tomatos...
regrets? yea -- every single
day ( I’m not even
that sex-crazed -- th giver, th
clash [long distance callers make
long distance calls] are everything as usual
for th first time you feel again. I leave early b-c
I don’t want to be left. fighting one
on one ( wrap my arms around
her neck her neck -- th’arms I use I use to cut meat
& open wine. a place open until 3 a.m.
where I think I am laughing
blue
M-K Artist Camp
FORT ST JOHN -- Artists partaking in the Muskwa Kechika (M-K) Artist Camp set off into the wilderness on Friday morning, and this year the journey is marked by a strong First Nations element.
The camp, now in its second year, takes 12 artists from across Canada and for one week sets them in the heart of the M-K where they travel by horse, cook over an open fire and let loose their creative minds.
Organizer and poet Donna Kane said that given the rich art and cultural importance of the M-K to First Nations it was a natural combination.
“Last year we were unable to get any First Nations artists in time, so this year we are really excited about it,” she said, as vehicles were packed before the group set off to Muncho Lake, where they’ll fly in by floatplane.
The five First Nations participants include Brian Jungen, the internationally acclaimed artist who has Dunne-za roots in the region and now resides in Vancouver.
“Brian is from our community and he’s always had that spirit of environmental issues and recycling ideas…I think it’ll be very interesting to see what he creates because his art is on an international level,” said Gary Oker, who is also on the journey.
Jungen, who went to camp a day early, is perhaps best known for the “Prototypes of New Understanding” series, in which he reworks objects into art form – such as aboriginal masks assembled from Nike Air Jordan shoes.
While representing nature through art is a central part of the experience, Oker also wants to develop the idea of environmental awareness in his work.
“How do we, as artists, create environmental awareness using art instead of preaching to people about it? I have this idea about the science of indigenous knowledge…and that’s what I’m formulating right now,” he said.
Saskatoon poet Laura Edna Lacey said she’s not sure what she’ll be holding after a week in the wilderness, but she’s looking forward to connecting with other artists and sharing the experience.
“I’m not sure how busy and active we’ll be and how much time we’ll have to sit around and write. I may come out with a pile of rough notes, or I may come out with a pile of ideas,” she said.
Photographer Wayne Sawchuk is co-organizing the camp and was in a week early to get packhorses ready and set up the camp, which is on the shores of Mayfield Lake.
The work produced from the camp will go into an art show that will travel the region next spring.
The camp, now in its second year, takes 12 artists from across Canada and for one week sets them in the heart of the M-K where they travel by horse, cook over an open fire and let loose their creative minds.
Organizer and poet Donna Kane said that given the rich art and cultural importance of the M-K to First Nations it was a natural combination.
“Last year we were unable to get any First Nations artists in time, so this year we are really excited about it,” she said, as vehicles were packed before the group set off to Muncho Lake, where they’ll fly in by floatplane.
The five First Nations participants include Brian Jungen, the internationally acclaimed artist who has Dunne-za roots in the region and now resides in Vancouver.
“Brian is from our community and he’s always had that spirit of environmental issues and recycling ideas…I think it’ll be very interesting to see what he creates because his art is on an international level,” said Gary Oker, who is also on the journey.
Jungen, who went to camp a day early, is perhaps best known for the “Prototypes of New Understanding” series, in which he reworks objects into art form – such as aboriginal masks assembled from Nike Air Jordan shoes.
While representing nature through art is a central part of the experience, Oker also wants to develop the idea of environmental awareness in his work.
“How do we, as artists, create environmental awareness using art instead of preaching to people about it? I have this idea about the science of indigenous knowledge…and that’s what I’m formulating right now,” he said.
Saskatoon poet Laura Edna Lacey said she’s not sure what she’ll be holding after a week in the wilderness, but she’s looking forward to connecting with other artists and sharing the experience.
“I’m not sure how busy and active we’ll be and how much time we’ll have to sit around and write. I may come out with a pile of rough notes, or I may come out with a pile of ideas,” she said.
Photographer Wayne Sawchuk is co-organizing the camp and was in a week early to get packhorses ready and set up the camp, which is on the shores of Mayfield Lake.
The work produced from the camp will go into an art show that will travel the region next spring.
28 July 2007
borderside (from th lakeside sessions)
wood and margaritas says here
are only cool kids. a Jackson
Triggs kind of evening says
solo style / rock on
just abt to fire up october road. had a wonderful…
wood says it cld be even better. I’ve also been in
to th wine. in th dead of night, solo style says
to fall asleep w-perfect. ha ha…
to be honest says I feel so confused. th word is screaming –
sounds amazing, says, I was drinking yellowtail tonight. that’s
for you, that dream
says ( shiraz or merlot or buffalos ) why is
british columbia so fucking big
electro-dream
(or, th spaces b-w her toes are like freeways)
if you love me
if you leave me I hope you live forever then
or maybe me drink talk a little so
less afraid right now. they
are with their father
8
in th garden of myself
was an assault
th suspects peeld back my skin
and I flew
I maybe. light bones
I am a strong girl
I am a strong girl
I am a strong girl
I am a strong girl
I am a strong girl
I am a strong girl
8
you are seeing things (contact
and you say th things
you see
are free
?
a skinhead bathroom corpse
a green apple soakd in bleach
doth
oth
h
*cough – jesus christ, billy, we smoke
8 hah, we make music videos
w-our teeth
see you later
sleeping paradox (vid eados / drrty
my last chance was
a teenage trampoline orgy
my first sexual experience was
weird
I am a scared animal
I am a scared animal
I am a scared animal
I am a scared animal
8
maybe did you see
this morning
a red mothe dream
a blue berry nightmare
wake up
this morning in bondage
and taste th’oh yeah of last night
you wrote that drunk
so I met th love
8
so I work eight hours a day
what
th
fuck
do I do
now
huh
?
24 July 2007
I was going nowhere when
to th cop that pulld me over
on my regrets. “we’re no one w-o some
one, he said, th memories in my head
straight lines and a new moon. he gave me a ticket for going
so slow
devil beside me on th’alaska highway
when I’ve been drinking. th lake
lines are quiet and I’ll just
keep
to meet you
so far I’ve had more than enough time to kill,
confess, or in th city lights
change. but how can we
forget what I did last weekend. just b-c
some people can start over again --
get tickets and pay them. or do th time
closer to you
*
you dont have to understand me -- just hear me out
give me a ticket and move on
21 July 2007
17 July 2007
la carovana della violenza [outake no. 27]
you said you want me to be more like stalin
and push yr hunger around a bit
pound you w-my hammer eyes
all into th night
and easy comes,
easy goes, easy flashes me
her pussy from beneath
a white bathrobe
and locks th bathroom door
leaves me in there w-nothing
but th smell her shaving cream
see what mascara looks like on me)
it's you mirror you and me
*
maybe ill sleep on th couch
on th fence
so what kind of person am-i
w-th nut suckd right out of me
words worth punches wheat blonde ale
it's you mirror you and me
"come in me / im scared
11 July 2007
08 July 2007
Donna Kane has some interesting new posts on her site, including Barry McKinnon in Whitehorse & the next round of Muskwa Kechika artists. & in case you've been living b/w the scales of a snake, Ken Belford is here.
05 July 2007
who cannot be named under th young offenders act
I fell for you in court when you appeard
via video from th youth correctional centre
in prince george. you sat there
in a small grey room while th crown
went over th details of a fight
in th parking lot of th local mall
where you beat th shit outta some girl
who pressd charges, and th judge
sentenced you to time served
(which turnd out to be more than you woulda gotten anyways)
and you smiled w-blonde hair covering
your eyes. and th warden said he’d leave you
at th gates
I knew those gates out in th woods. and you lookd away
from th camera like th ride was over
th judge askd if you had someone to pick you up
b/c a young girl on th side of a highway and then
alone at a greyhound station
is never a good idea, but th camera had turnd off
so I left court and got in my truck w-o thinking
because I could be there in five hours
because somehow we were in th same place and
I told myself it could work if we just
went from there
you have no criminal record and don’t worry
I’m on my way. when everyone has gone home
and th haircuts are expensive, I’m leaving town
and heading west. red eyes on a smoggy morning
6
if she doesn’t change,
how am I going to explain th shotgun
wedding. fully loadd and on a faint trail
along th banks of th nechako. and she’s got a black
bear in her mouth, and my heart is attachd to a human
skeleton
at a point, we could just never meet and thereby be real --
or else, you could get into my truck...
but how many people that pass you by on th highway
won't have that same thought before I get there
via video from th youth correctional centre
in prince george. you sat there
in a small grey room while th crown
went over th details of a fight
in th parking lot of th local mall
where you beat th shit outta some girl
who pressd charges, and th judge
sentenced you to time served
(which turnd out to be more than you woulda gotten anyways)
and you smiled w-blonde hair covering
your eyes. and th warden said he’d leave you
at th gates
I knew those gates out in th woods. and you lookd away
from th camera like th ride was over
th judge askd if you had someone to pick you up
b/c a young girl on th side of a highway and then
alone at a greyhound station
is never a good idea, but th camera had turnd off
so I left court and got in my truck w-o thinking
because I could be there in five hours
because somehow we were in th same place and
I told myself it could work if we just
went from there
you have no criminal record and don’t worry
I’m on my way. when everyone has gone home
and th haircuts are expensive, I’m leaving town
and heading west. red eyes on a smoggy morning
6
if she doesn’t change,
how am I going to explain th shotgun
wedding. fully loadd and on a faint trail
along th banks of th nechako. and she’s got a black
bear in her mouth, and my heart is attachd to a human
skeleton
at a point, we could just never meet and thereby be real --
or else, you could get into my truck...
but how many people that pass you by on th highway
won't have that same thought before I get there
03 July 2007
02 July 2007
deer eyes
we are drinking beer
my friend and I
in th back of a silver minivan
on th way to edmonton
lying w-my friend, no purpose, gazing
out th window, somewhere around jasper
wondering man those mountains, but
when I hear my name I don't really
seem to care
turn it up, he says
effect and cause
effect and cause
and in typical road trip fashion
we talk about how far we've come
since prince george, in tits and pints
but not twenty-dollar bills,
kilometres or tears
in th mountain pass
I pay cover to think for a moment
back to some of those scenes. limes
and eyes
th'animals are all roadside. many deer
are dead, and no one is clearing th
bodies. we are relaxd in th back of
th silver minivan
we are relaxd like th'eyes that bulge out
of the deerheads at th yellowhead
and th trucks. and th night
is a red chill, my friend,
sips harp regret, for us,
th night is something
to hold on to from behind
my friend and I
in th back of a silver minivan
on th way to edmonton
lying w-my friend, no purpose, gazing
out th window, somewhere around jasper
wondering man those mountains, but
when I hear my name I don't really
seem to care
turn it up, he says
effect and cause
effect and cause
and in typical road trip fashion
we talk about how far we've come
since prince george, in tits and pints
but not twenty-dollar bills,
kilometres or tears
in th mountain pass
I pay cover to think for a moment
back to some of those scenes. limes
and eyes
th'animals are all roadside. many deer
are dead, and no one is clearing th
bodies. we are relaxd in th back of
th silver minivan
we are relaxd like th'eyes that bulge out
of the deerheads at th yellowhead
and th trucks. and th night
is a red chill, my friend,
sips harp regret, for us,
th night is something
to hold on to from behind
25 June 2007
24 June 2007
la carovana della violenza [outake no. 26]
might th wrong time
be in
these days?
mid-twenties speakeasies
are th rage
w-all my friends
black eyes red bread
hammer bisexual martinis
he hammerd wooden nails
into my dreamfloor, come over draped in bloom
so we have sickles in our eyes so what
a windmill
a good funeral dance
we only lastd 35 hours dead
you are birds
people don’t need love
they need success of one form or another
it can be love
but it doesn’t have to be
-bukowski
says, an appearance
you are birds
two burgers
& two cold beers
two burgers & two cold beers, says,
beside you -- goodnight -- little world war two
oh, is that what you are calling her
iv been called worse)
th german version
on special occasions, or in th bush
on sunday. you got a little fresh in th dark. yes,
everything is so predictable, yes,
everything -- two burgers, two cold beers & world war two
on special occasions
23 June 2007
22 June 2007
work, drink, rinse, repeat
Th best showers were when I was a bartender, & th
faint smell of booze on my body. th northern
sun that rises at four in June. th black candle against
th blinds of everyone
I thought of love. b/c I was new
& it was nothing to do w hot water or becoming
clean, but th black candle & th fact it was bright
again before I’d go to sleep. in my pockets
$$$ from th men & women
to hear th twist of a bottle or another hitting another
for I was born yesterday & what th devil holds
at home alone for th waitresses
who were ready
for someone to happen. our black clothes were uniforms
& we laughd at nothing or summer rains
in anticipation of hard drinks on th soft red chairs
when th doors were lockd
seeing how things were hard before, like th top of th bar
was th top of th world
for dancing, & knowing little of th future I wld fall asleep.
in & out of th shower, I wld count my $$ & laugh
& pull th blinds
faint smell of booze on my body. th northern
sun that rises at four in June. th black candle against
th blinds of everyone
I thought of love. b/c I was new
& it was nothing to do w hot water or becoming
clean, but th black candle & th fact it was bright
again before I’d go to sleep. in my pockets
$$$ from th men & women
to hear th twist of a bottle or another hitting another
for I was born yesterday & what th devil holds
at home alone for th waitresses
who were ready
for someone to happen. our black clothes were uniforms
& we laughd at nothing or summer rains
in anticipation of hard drinks on th soft red chairs
when th doors were lockd
seeing how things were hard before, like th top of th bar
was th top of th world
for dancing, & knowing little of th future I wld fall asleep.
in & out of th shower, I wld count my $$ & laugh
& pull th blinds
20 June 2007
18 June 2007
City fear to humour & we laugh along
Take a city artist & stick it in the backcountry for a week to see what comes.
A video screening from last year's Muskwa Kechika Artists Camp at Donna Kane & Wayne Sawchuk's place in Rolla last weekend revealed one possibility.
By floatplane & packhorse, artists Sally McKay & Von Bark were thrust from Toronto's College Street deep into northeast B.C., along with a number of other artists. Not the everyday transition.
But that's one of the hooks of the now annual camp: shocking artists into a foriegn environment & asking them to relate the experience.
& in this case, McKay & Bark could be cast as confused & scared. Humour, often a by-product of fear, was a main theme in the videos; they were more along the lines of B-science fiction movies & children shows than an Audubon documentary.
McKay's first of two short videos was a spoof on grizzly bear enthusiast & all-round nut Timothy Treadwell, who lived among the bears in Alaska's Katmai National Park for 13 summers.
In the style of Treadwell's raw video footage, McKay trekked through downtown Toronto to the visit the grizzlies at the Toronto Zoo. It was darkly humourous when she reached the bears' pen, where they appeared unhealthy & lethargic.
The point was clear. However, despite his death wish, the "Grizzly Man's" strength was his passion, & McKay was ignorant of that fact.
However, the trip through the concrete forest did succeed in disorientating the viewer, who may have expected something more pastoral, which set up the proper reaction for part two.
Many artists-- like her father, poet Don McKay, for instance, who was on the same trip -- try naively to understand nature (even by claiming they are not). They sit on a rock and stare into a creek, waiting for a revelation (which is incidentally pervading them at all times). But McKay's takes a refreshing short-cut.
Her second video featured a fairy nymph (an actor reminiscent of a SCTV extra) that dances through hyper-morphed camera tricks against a backdrop of Muskwa scenes. Jerky movements & scared facial expressions relay the inner-turmoil the actor faces in nature.
Her second video featured a fairy nymph (an actor reminiscent of a SCTV extra) that dances through hyper-morphed camera tricks against a backdrop of Muskwa scenes. Jerky movements & scared facial expressions relay the inner-turmoil the actor faces in nature.
The nymph strides over lakes & through forests to escape a bear. The backcountry is a dreamland. But it was funny & we laughed.
Now, Bark is not a good singer, nor, apparently, a videographer. He is one of those artists that thrives on nonsense, & therein lies his merit because he makes it watchable.
The first, Blair Witch-ish video has Bark tent-bound & humming a song about having six fingers. Then he rolls over and goes to sleep.
The second video features a backdrop of cardboard mountains, which probably wasn't filmed in the Muskwa, & was soundtracked by another song of random lyrics.
Everyone enjoyed the videos -- mostly through laughter. But the artistic merit became secondary to how the two people from from Toronto dealt, through art, with being trapped in nature for a week.
While the camp produced a multitude of work in different mediums, it can on one level be seen as an experiment on how artists from different areas of the country express their natural, northeast B.C. experience.
Bark's videos seem to have no real point, but at the same time it's better than another poem that wrestles the mystery of nature to exhaustion.
16 June 2007
14 June 2007
12 June 2007
my chemikiller pt 6
we walk around & drink some more
breathe in th cedars & th’ocean blood
flowing over th stones of black
rock tee’s
some of this magic is centuries old
or only just sixteen
december’s cuts are finally healing
in this field
there is no place to disappear. bedroom anger shows
on webcams, shooting yourself
through a shower curtain
black gown rain. beneath th dark flower
speakers to heaven. believe th grass stains &
in th warm beer. th screaming sins
after th show it is dark & we follow
lit cigarettes across soccer fields
to th bus stop
taste th dye in a stranger’s hair
follow th virgin’s tracks across th stadium
see th killer in a blue sweater
drag
mosh. old & young body frustrations
breathe in th cedars & th’ocean blood
flowing over th stones of black
rock tee’s
some of this magic is centuries old
or only just sixteen
december’s cuts are finally healing
in this field
there is no place to disappear. bedroom anger shows
on webcams, shooting yourself
through a shower curtain
black gown rain. beneath th dark flower
speakers to heaven. believe th grass stains &
in th warm beer. th screaming sins
after th show it is dark & we follow
lit cigarettes across soccer fields
to th bus stop
taste th dye in a stranger’s hair
follow th virgin’s tracks across th stadium
see th killer in a blue sweater
drag
mosh. old & young body frustrations
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