My Statement

I plan on purchasing 20-50 5 X 8 index cards and rubber stamping very short text/poems onto them along with some personal artifact, a receipt, a piece of hair, an old movie ticket, a con-ed bill, etc. on the other side. Each will be one of a kind and distributed on the floor or near where the alcohol is being served. Hopefully people will stand on them, or put their drinks on them, ignore them, or collect them. Is it trash or art? Did someone just drop something on the floor? They will be silently taking up space. The utterances and the artifacts adhered to them will be the fractured narrative of my life, our life. 2010. The utterances on one side will be commands, observations, demands, pleas, or simple names of things themselves. No fancy language, no poetic farts. Nouns as calls to action, but what action? Artifacts that ask to be collected, but to what end? Revelations in the mundane. Grandma's memory book pages on the floor. Utterances released like a broadcast into the void of collectors doing what they do best: drinking and talking and looking. But will they know where to look? Will they care? Who cares? Perhaps a gaze will be cast upon one of these cards as they are flung about. Perhaps not. Maybe Marianne Vitale will help distribute them to people one by one and whisper to them "this is just for you" as they stand around awkwardly like you and me. Art as gift. Language as failure. Remnants of our history are just reminders of our our pathologies. Everything is broken and alive.