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displacement

Capsized or Captivating?

La Bateau by Matisse was cut out of gouache colored paper in 1953.

Cutting into color reminds me of the sculptor's direct carving.

La Bateau by Matisse was hung upside down in the MoMa in 1961.

Seek the strongest color effect possible... the content is of no importance.

La Bateau by Matisse had remained in this way for 47 days—even his son hadn’t caught on.

There are always flowers for those who want to see them.

La Bateau by Matisse had been viewed by 116,000 visitors during this time.

Would not it be best to leave room to mystery?

La Bateau by Matisse was viewed three times by a stockbroker, Genevieve Habert.

What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity, devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter, an art which could be for every mental worker, for the businessman as well as the man of letters, for example, a soothing, calming influence on the mind, something like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue.

La Bateau by Matisse had produced a “‘stabbing certainty’” of an inversion, which propelled Habert that third evening to notify security, journalists, and at last the appalled curators.

The essential thing is to spring forth, to express the bolt of lightning one senses upon contact with a thing. The function of the artist is not to translate an observation but to express the shock of the object on his nature; the shock, with the original reaction.

La Bateau by Matisse had been elsewhere displayed correctly, but also hung this way before—recorded older framing holes.

Exactitude is not truth.

La Bateau by Matisse is a paper-cut of a blue boat and its reflection beneath.

When I put a green, it it not grass. When I put a blue, it is not the sky.

La Bateau by Matisse is still housed in the MoMa; it's forever housed in the 1961 headlines as well.

Impressionism is the newspaper of the soul.

La Bateau by Matisse was created near the end of his life.

I wouldn't mind turning into a vermilion goldfish.

 

 

 

 

N.B. italicized lines are quotes from Matisse; further facts have been gathered from Wikipediaartsy.net, and the New York Daily News.

after manners of the savages, formosa 1928

after manners of the savages, formosa 1928

the whites of your feathers and the roundness of your symmetries

the skyblue adornments as backdrop and accessory,

the thatched dwelling harmonious, linear, with purer purpose

 

the fresh pink of your crown and the bands at your knees, 

the cheekbones of sepia and the ligaments strong,

the black wraps on your bodies more essence than black sand beneath

 

the beads of color indicative, long, the clasp to hold longer,

the stripes with intent, stitched for time and its passages,

the feet adapted, the shoulders back, the stares the proudest of all

 

if these are the manners stamped as savage in sand a century before, how do our

meticulous sound systems,

bamboo attempts at fortitude,

synthetic searches for safety,

frond waving sinews of exhaustion,

feminist proclivities,

widening pupillary ethereality, and

dulled with dirt ersatz adornments

on the gods' manicured hills

have room for the way we choose to bend?

dissociative daughter

her, self, immersed in water, lost in float

the mother scours island; fugue state or worse?

 

all homes of prayer for silence, sand on floor

liminality in paradise; any corner’s a chance

wet behind the ears

living very far away and having resigned herself to certain attributes

of my personality—which are mostly blamed on the poor

conditions of the countries I choose to live in

and/or my father’s side of the family’s genetic

predispositions, she finally instructs over the not so

small phone placed under the only plant

i can really keep alive—bamboo,

if you were wondering: “get it while you can…

your figure,

your brains,

your secretions,

—they all leave you.”

my mother advises, and the support becomes bakhtinian

grotesque in that instant.

i would like to bring this up to the poet women

whom i plan, cackle, dream, and dine with.

instead we like

to talk about how long we can last

until wet

or dry shampoo is in order.

 

whom are we challenging?

catch up

i find swing sets

it’s a thing i've always loved because it’s easy to control

but it’s fake freedom with chains and steel at the root, and the grip must be tight,

and your heels must eventually dig a bit, less graceful than perhaps you envision,

and so I make a scene each time

 

and seats outside

with women i have loved and love me back

become swing sets sought after behind more steel in less locations over longer stretches of time

 

the distance and time are measurements i prefer not;

those have been cliche since before we had grey hairs,

since before we had comments on the grey hairs,

since before we even knew what they would really fucking feel like in our hands.

 

the heights we look up to together became larger than our own;

we know we cannot feed each other’s wishes,

so we can crane our necks to see specks of people,

and we can tell each other all the disgusting layers of insecurity we accept;

we wash it down on collapsible tables because despite grey hairs, we still don’t call ahead for reservations

 

we speak of polyamory and jealousy and unwanted attention from wanted wells,

we speak of visas and how much power we have to get them,

we speak of our empty wombs and how much power we will need to maintain,

to keep them so—

 

some call us brave,

because we aren’t little specks with velocity and neck breaks,

we are here

and we are close

but we don’t hug anywhere near enough

and the fancy bathtub in the morning was impossible to use.

 

I want my swing set back

and it makes me break my spine to let out loud cries

on a tarmac

as warm water still spills on never been used white lies.