Revisionist History

soon:more info, pre-orders, previews, etc etc. for now the cover, my god i love paris and i am so glad this photo came out

this spot is literally my favorite place in the entire world. base of the seine adjacent to bastille, late spring, mid-afternoon. when i die let it be here

Revisionist History

First page/cover inlay for Revisionist History

the most difficult part of wandering is not having a constant studio to make art and/or music with. as I approach a return to the States, I’ll be able to focus the various energies and ideas I’ve manifested over the past months toward finally getting some new work out there. Looking forward to it:

—first while still in Denmark, giving a presentation on art&community in America. I’ll be previewing a bit of the manifesto for Anticapitalist Expressionism, as well as playing a bit of piano. Upon return to America, I’ll be showing the work I finished in Ireland at October’s First Friday in Portland.

November will see an asterisk tour with my buddy Drew, likely from Seattle to Los Angeles and back, and in December I’ll have a solo show featuring the last of the Valence series and the release of Revisionist History, a book of poems and photographs made throughout this season in Europe. Chances are there will be some new music as well, but I’m still working on those details.

I’m hoping by the end of the year to release Arson, a publication I’ve been talking to Noele about collaborating on, which will see the finished version of the previously mentioned Anticapitalist Expressionism manifesto and a variety of sociopolitical and cultural essays I’ve been scribbling while on the road.

Pierre

Pierre at MacCarthy’s

the length of my memory can be measured in segments of losing touch.

Everything ends. it isn’t that this idea disturbs me anymore, or even that it comes as a surprise. When you live in a state of transition, the general idea is nothing can be permanent. regardless, the to and fro of people is never an easy wave to ride.

Pierre was here for a few weeks and now is gone, and I’ll be next to leave the work flat.

Accumulated interactions, sincere but short-lived. I wonder what, if anything, this is all leading to, or if this is simply a road that doesn’t end; if I’m even still on a road at all. Like something out of an old cartoon, I’m a bit afraid if I look down I’ll see the earth far below, the ledge behind me; that I missed a turn along the way and just kept running, head stuck in the clouds, now with nothing left but the fall to take me.