Of Limb and Language

20 Jan, 2013

Rapunzel reads the news

2016-03-18T22:48:51-07:00By |Categories: Artists in Residence, CounterPULSE, Miriam Wolodarski|Tags: , , , |

Sitting at the window, I repeat to myself: the project is to grapple with my inability to comprehend or speak about my world. From my castle, my ivory tower, my highest, whitest horse, I can read all about it — 87 are dead in Aleppo, 26 in Connecticut— all safely within view, and unreachable.  Next to me, a book about a genocide my very own family survived. Somewhere on the horizon, my very own death, at a considered and clinical distance.  Far.

17 Mar, 2013

What’s it about?

2016-03-18T22:48:07-07:00By |Categories: Artists in Residence, CounterPULSE, Miriam Wolodarski|Tags: |

It’s about capitalist self-censorship, and whether or not I can feel it in my kidneys. It's about having nothing to say and saying it, as if John Cage needed our poetry, too. About our eternal need for snacks to feed the phantom limbs. About rhetorical silence, felt silence. dead silence. Freedom protection. —That won't sell— Diffidence v. deference. If deference wins, deference v. différance. The show is about the fact that though I know I’ve looked it up on more

21 Mar, 2013

Yesterday and yesterday and yesterday

2016-03-18T22:47:52-07:00By |Categories: Artists in Residence, CounterPULSE, Miriam Wolodarski|Tags: |

Tomorrow was today. This morning I found some of last week's thoughts. And though we open TONIGHT! and time is a jetplane, I'm still crawling around on hands and feet. So here they are, last weeks thoughts, still fresh:   "A major chance operation crept into the show. Stormed in, I should say, with muddy, bloody, war-like little booties. Why? — It certainly wasn’t part of the original plan. Is this a moralistic metaphor about the sick absurdity of a death

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