A pair of snapshots from installing a new project at Green-Wood Cemetery.
My next project with Candy Chang is happening in this magnificent chapel.
As I write this, a hurricane is approaching the eastern seaboard, which captures the general mood for the past eighteen months: the waiting-and-seeing.
Along the way, I began to think of my book as a monster.
Fireworks showered the nation last night, in part to commemorate the end of masking and distancing.
I reread Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake, which harmonized with our latest heatwave to an unsettling degree.
On June 2, Candy Chang and I will be at the Mint Museum in Charlotte to discuss our Light the Barricades installation.
How do you prepare to live in science fictional times?
Two games later, she said something to me that roughly translates as “you are still breathing but you have no strength.”
The landscape of mattresses, exploded tires, and orphaned vehicles along the shoulder. The overwhelm of America all at once.
Fellini’s 8½ is a head-scraping and memory-swirled portrait of the judgment and shame that comes with creative effort.
In Steve Erickson’s Shadowbahn, the Twin Towers reappear in South Dakota, wholly intact and without explanation.
