Boo Saville - Ghost (2009)
“This work is a selection from an edition of 31 unique multiples made from a photo etching of a dead man’s image. These prints have been disrupted by being drawn on, burned or cut, in many ways changing the mark-making process and adding an element of risk to the coherence of the final image. The title for the monoprints, Ghost, is a suggestion of the transient, fluid nature of this process and a play on its obvious, more macabre reference.”
COME! on Flickr.
come see some new work of mine as well as a bunch of other talented artists’ work. if you’re in the LA area, mark your calendars :)
Opening Night: August 9th, 6PM-9PM
Taking place at: Hemingway and Pickett, 3208 W. Sunset Blvd.
I AM AFRAID, 2009
Woven cotton, embroidered LB on stretcher
I AM AFRIAD OF SILENCE
I AM AFRAID OF THE DARK
I AM AFRAID TO FALL DOWN
I AM AFRAID OF INSOMNIA
I AM AFRIAD OF EMPTINESS
IS SOMETHING MISSING?
YES SOMETHING IS MISSING AND ALWAYS WILL BE MISSING
THE EXPERIENCE OF EMPTINESS
WHAT ARE YOU MISSING?
I AM IMPERFECT BUT I AM LACKING NOTHING
MAYBE SOMETHING IS MISSING BUT I DO NOT KNOW AND THEREFORE DO NOT SUFFER
EMPTY STOMACH EMPTY HOUSE EMPTY BOTTLE
THE FALLING INTO A VACCUM SIGNALS THE ABANDONMENT OF THE MOTHER
"Leaving is not enough. You must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. You had to have him. And you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street."
"My Thin-Aired Room" by Kansuke Yamamoto, 1956