I’d like to account for the changes in my lyfe made since enrolling in art coll3ge…

Went from Writing major to Fine Art,
From ‘more to love’ to ‘gettin’ there’
From painter to half assed flamboyant sculptor.
From defender of Lipinski to friend of Lipinski.
From 17 to 20 with 2 years left.
From optimist to pessimist to searching for jesus christ.
From golden boots to no shoes left.
From bad hair to unfortunate mane happening.
From knowing how to dance to any urgency to do so but art school parties don’t partake in dancing and we all know how awesome the DC club scene is… so dance parties with my dog will have to do for a little longer.
From no friends to too many, to acquaintances to familiar faces to tumblr followers.


I’m not complaining. I happy just to be alive…right? I’m just happy to get to play with barbies again. I’ve never been confronted with such an drag of a future. It’s only 24 months. It can be done.

My boss just commented how good Drew Barrymore looked at the premier of “The Time Frame.” I looked at the webpage she was referring to, turns out it was Reese Witherspoon at the premiere of “Water for Elephants.” My relatively young boss just had a Serene Branson moment.

I don’t really feel like ranting about crit but nevertheless, I will.
I was in a sort of fucked up state of mind, considering that fact that I was running a low grade fever at the time of my presentation. All I can say is that I had to follow up an emotionally charged, shock art, performance piece, so it’s to no surprise that the reception of the work was underwhelming. As I stood there beside my work, one of my professors realized who I was, or rather, that I was. Apparently you can go an entire month in a class without being noticed. I spoke about my work. Didn’t fumble over words. Just clean eloquence (something I’m no stranger to). I simply stated my thought process. Which was as follows.

-Defined mapping for myself.

-Became attracted to the idea…

—that maps were representations of the relationships between variables.
—scaling in maps are cause for interest, considering that an entire country could be reduced to the size of one’s palm. Reduction is powerful.

-Explained Hasan Elahi’s work as inspiration for mine.

-Revealed that the visual present, came as a result of a hybrid mapping system of my own.

-Explained that my mapping system was a translation and hybrid of both genealogy maps and kinship diagrams.

-The apparent kinships (or family trees) represented were collapsed and entangled with one another.

-The family trees were personifications of Joan Crawford, Marilyn Monroe, Liza Minnelli and Maddona’s familial lineage.

-Concluded, that by collecting and representing the familial relationships of gay icons and proceeding to represent the perpetual and consequential relationships between the gay icons themselves, I was able to demonstrate the tangibility (reduction) and entanglement of relationships between, otherwise unrelated variables.

Today, I listened to Chris Martin explain why he was anti- art school. He professed that art cannot be taught and that art is an expression. An expression for which one must come to as a result of “Self-learning.” He projected this conviction ofcourse to a group a art students and teachers. I disagree with him. For one, to agree with a conviction like Martin’s is to make my time here a complete thing of hypocrisy but I’d also be making a joke of the 30 grand, I pay a year to pretend to learn. I love the learning that I have learned… and I think the trick is to unlearn, relearn and unlearn again. Essentially I want to know that even though I may make art that consist feces on canvas, I can still draw a still life, or render an adequate portrait. Martin mentioned that one must not necessarily learn a language and therefore speak it, one may invent a language and therefore demonstrate it.

I think my seclusion and chronic loneliness in an era where that is virtually impossible, has led me to invent multiple languages. The most apparent in my work is that of translated perfection. I am not perfect, but I know what is. My version of perfection is not universally accepted as such, but I see the beautify and impossibility in people’s faces, bodies and expression. I know they are perfect even when they do not believe it themselves. It is their utter perfection that leaves me in a state of quandary, whereby I ponder why and how they can be so perfect. I will never understand that perfection. I will never understand why they are rendered so perfectly in life and because I will never be able to understand, I am thus stuck in an infinite state of curiosity, and it is that struggle that leads me to invent my language. It is a language of beautiful superficialities and disturbing skeletons framing it’s perfect body.

I can try and list the happenings of my Wednesday and list the emotions that I therefore attributed to each occurrence or I can be super ambiguous and nebulously describe another extraordinary day for me. The best to tell it like it is. The fact is I remain neutral on wether or not my life is for the better or worse after said “Day.”

My melodrama is only current and will not seem as “intense” in the days, months, years to come. But right now, is right now and I need to release.

It was the first day of my second semester as a college student. I wanted to feel platinum, but I was late and that threw off my groove. Class was fine. I was mostly ambivalent. I was glad to have been able to see some old “new” friends. I walked down Wisconsin Ave. and took some pretty impressive photographs (at least for my shitty coolpix or whatever I have). I liked getting reacquainted with the town and people of my short lived collegiate life. But when I returned to class to upload my photographs I realized I had dented my poor macbook. The dent wasn’t even evident to most. But i knew it was there. My protuberance was mostly due to the fact that I gave such a huge shit about something that was so insignificant. This happening only encouraged the awkwardness of my day.

anyway. I like stability. I don’t like tumultuousness. If i experience things that are out of control I like to do it vicariously (i.e. films, books etc.) I want a simple life. My mind is a complex thing. I can’t have my life as whole be that too.

I cannot be specific in recollecting the events of yesterday. But I can say that it was not stable. I found my self, alone, relaxed and on a break the day before but now, this day, was like a dream. Unusual, unreal and sublime to say the least. I woke up early, went through georgetown, hung out with old friends, went to Georgetown, found my self alone on the bus and then downtown and then in a bank and then H&M and then a movie theater. I think what makes it so weird is the fact that I was alone. I had regressed so successfully in a month’s worth of “break time” and now I was experiencing the roller coaster again and alone.

Yesterday was whirlwind; a complicated mixture of delight and grief, of relief and anxiety, of love and hate and of temporariness and permanence. Nothing was obvious. It was that cluster fuck of subtitles that drove me crazy. I want my confusion to be deliberate and singular. I want to know my pain. I don’t want to organize my stress.

I’m living for me now. But my heart is for others. and as long as that’s true I’ll always hurt for them.