Comics & Art

rag-doll

rag-doll rag-doll get it through your head

you are not the pretty bitch that gets to sit up on the bed

with the other modeled fucks of porcelain-me in silk dresses

concealing plastic hearts with bendable arms

rag-doll please, gather your eye that hangs so

strung out from the socket

from all those times you left yourself

catatonically drunk on the floor for the dogs

that love to chew you up

the smell of you makes me sick

dragging yourself across in shit

gathering any bits of your mind you can find

falling out like stuffed cotton

I watch the wind throw you around

in its pull so easily

rushing through the open window of my room

but I have no worries for you there

pinned against the floor

nowhere further for you to fall

and then there is the crash

one by one the wind casts the porcelain dolls right off the bed

always sitting too close to the edge

falling broken a coordinated team diving into the mirror pool

their fragile faces smashing, one blue glass eye rolling across the room

they fall harder than you rag-doll

now that you are all that is left

my tea party is ruined

1 week ago -

1

family of flies

this blood is ignited like mire gas over water

thick tar sour

churning over in the gut

the family of flies are preparing the bath of suffocation

scooping the pilgrims dry thrown down to the pit-moss

(on the way, not before they copulate in the air like sparrows)

their infinite screams

swarm our heads in chainsaw whirlpools

muffled in the bubbly buoyancy of space

the family of flies are always pounding

at the door of this flesh / acidic peat

conditioning the body to suspend in manipulation

purification,

pulling the bones apart

the young thorax refracting cloudless light of

old ghosts, the will-of-the-wisps entrancing the eyes

& mother muscles excavating scars for re-penetration

the distilled feral water has been abducted from the meat

replaced with cold bodies turning their shit storms

to maggots ripening on the branches of death

locks of leaves being pulled out

2 weeks ago

Rhythm 0, 1974

To test the limits of the relationship between performer and audience, Abramović developed one of her most challenging (and best-known) performances. She assigned a passive role to herself, with the public being the force which would act on her.

Abramović had placed upon a table 72 objects that people were allowed to use (a sign informed them) in any way that they chose. Some of these were objects that could give pleasure, while others could be wielded to inflict pain, or to harm her. Among them were a rose, a feather, honey, a whip, scissors, a scalpel, a gun and a single bullet. For six hours the artist allowed the audience members to manipulate her body and actions.

Initially, members of the audience reacted with caution and modesty, but as time passed (and the artist remained impassive) people began to act more aggressively. As Abramović described it later:

“What I learned was that… if you leave it up to the audience, they can kill you.” … “I felt really violated: they cut up my clothes, stuck rose thorns in my stomach, one person aimed the gun at my head, and another took it away. It created an aggressive atmosphere. After exactly 6 hours, as planned, I stood up and started walking toward the audience. Everyone ran away, to escape an actual confrontation.”

3 weeks ago