Blogging
and news
and something like what’s next?
I sold my book, I’m very happy and grateful for this—
It’ll be out April-ish 2027. I’m working on a revision now. The stakes are fabulous, vexing, and tectonic—what do I really mean? What do I really wish to make of this book? What are the ecstatic secrets I can socket it with? How may I unfold the mind very slightly more? What duty do I owe to each and every progenitor (HUGE, VARIOUS, HOLOGRAPHIC DUTY)?
I had surgery in April, that was the most important thing I did last year. Mesh repair of inguinal hernia, present from birth, emerging as very slight bodily estrangement in adolescence, a source of pain since pandemic-ish. Now I can stand all the livelong day. My whole life my left leg felt shorter than my right—no longer. There’s a sense of fiery possibility—let’s say the choleric, never before present, peeks its head out.
As every January, I’m resolved to escape the torment of social media and lethargy. I learned a long time ago that to keep the body still costs a hell of a lot more than to move it even to the point of exhaustion, but I’m still learning this. There’s a great hill just outside our apartment, I’ve been walking up it each day at 4 p.m. I’m reading many books as usual and finishing few, but this time I’m actually keeping track—I’m reading Come Back in September by Darryl Pinckney, The Burning Plain by Michael Nava, Lonely Crowds by Stephanie Wambugu, Pliny’s Natural History, Chaka by Thomas Mofolo, Love Stories by Jonathan Katz, Evenings and Weekends by Oisín McKenna, Segu by Maryse Condé, Nick Mauss’s Transmissions, The Sons of El Rey by Alex Espinoza, Sacrament by Susan Straight . . . I aim to write reflections on this reading through the year.
I’m going to make another crop of clothing soon, another ‘season’ if you will. I’d like to start making clothes without text, I find in my own life the text can get in the way, most of the time these days it seems better not to be identified in language, to present no immediate message. I’m curious to see how the silhouettes I’ve developed will hold their own . . . I’m curious to play with abstraction.
I never posted here about the show I put on in Korea at Bio Gallery, here it is in émergent magazine, it’s an odd show, I still don’t really have a handle on it, but I think it burrows pretty deep into the tensions of selfhood, duty, freedom, collapse, evil, helplessness, maturity, accumulation, sex, community, literature, justice, etc . . . .
With my grandmother the photographer Brigitte Carnochan, I have a show opening Feb 7 in SF at Themes & Projects. It is so fabulous and meaningful and exciting for me to do this show with Gitta. I’ve written a short text for the show I’ll share soon—meantime here is the info:
OK, signing off now.
-Patrick
Your April surgery sounds central. I'm glad it went well. Interesting to read you want to do new work without text. I love text in art because I love letters, words, and typographical beauty as well as the choices of an artist to move me in one direction or another, but I can see how it would be limiting, and look forward to what you do next. It's wonderful to read about your show with your grandmother. I've loved Brigitte's work since the first show I saw at The Photographers Gallery in Palo Alto in 1997. I followed her career through Modernbook, then in Palo Alto, though I moved to SF in 1998. When I met your mom on Twitter in 2009 I found out about her connection to Brigitte when she posted about one of her shows. On 5 December 2013 I went to the opening of her Natural Beauty show at Modernbook, which had just moved to SF. I introduced myself to Brigitte that evening. In her show text for Natural Beauty Brigitte wrote,
"People tend to look at photographs too quickly, superficially. They make assumptions of familiarity. I want to slow down the viewer’s eye to appreciate in more detail the beauty of the natural world…In this series, the spaces between the image sections, like the leading in a stained glass window, become an integral part of the composition. I have printed these photographs with one of the oldest photographic materials—platinum—for its extravagantly long tonal range, depth, and permanence. The warm black, grey, and brown tones of the photographs further abstract the image, making it still easier to reconfigure the pieces and imagine the whole."
You grandmother was considering abstraction as a means to fresh communications then just as you are now. I love that.
I look forward to reading your book.
celebrations all ‘round ❤️