we hate this couch:
on dismantling unfashionable seating instruments through emphatic action and projecting identity on to zero waste crafting exploits
the revolution begin at home
sweet home
activist rhetoric for zealous youth with fledging accountability and an endearing cliche phrase to be ornamentally carved into sugar pine, painted in pastels and hung on a front door, perhaps with the image of a stoic goose.
this is my political background in disruption of the home front. beyond uncomfortable family dinner with careful tip toes, i desire to tie my organs into delicate ribbons and spray paint stencils on the inside of my stomach; something funny or ironic like an anatomical heart or “meat is murder” or perhaps inscribe an inspiring manifesto i will someday write along the inner lining.
gross, anyway…
we hate this couch (it has got to go)
loose change
part of me hopes that tearing apart this couch will be like an epiphany, finding loose change between the cushions or perhaps a ten dollar bill. part of me believes in ghosts. these aspects of myself are different, but important when beginning a fresh undertaking.
expectation and pretension. wide-eyed wonder and intrigue.
as i tear apart this couch i hope it has been loved. not because of sadist fantasy but along with ghosts i believe that the only things that are worth dismantling are things that have been loved. otherwise it should be destroyed.
cushion s
this couch was made for the landfill. not quite the simple ikeaonic structure yet still manufactured in a cheap fashion. this meaning, though it is held together with staples, wood glue, and cheap screws, it is still heavy and hard to disassemble.
zero waste sounds like a picketing slogan or a welcome mat, perhaps with an embroidered pineapple. it sounds like something that could be adopted and orphaned by whole foods.
though it feels like an application of ideals.
process infused with desire.
take things seriously
homebody
there are inward truths, such as i enjoy my privacy (minus the flaunting of couch wrecking) and i am afraid of the dark and finding latent suicide notes beneath cushions and abandonment fascinates me.
if i saw this couch on the curb i would want to sit in it.
if it were torn to pieces and smattered across an empty lot, i would want to take photos striving for perplexing but beautiful composition. this is a somewhat problematic desire, for it requires the fetishization of disparaging environmental conditions that I am privileged enough to not be subjected to. the couch becomes a symbol for greater issues in this context, one that is reflected in both personal life and practice and how that relates to environmental/ social justice.
this seeks not to be a model for decisive action or the workings of a guilty conscious, but translating desire and aesthetic ingrained in a manic psyche into
…a destroyed couch…
the couch fragments are now smattered between the floor, kitchen, hallway, and bedroom. this is a b re e d in g g r ou n d
from the wreckage small beings begin to form, awakened sprites emerge.
with purpose unknown, the sprites take to stumbling down the hall
while scaring the cat in an unintentional manner
all the sprites have an inherited w a nd e r l u st
dismantle with love end part one
Dysphoric Cyborgs take full advantage of the queer fountain of youth
also featured journal making and nature painting plus misc. artwork
mary crooning an audience in cincinatti
