James A. Reeves
Journal Stories + Essays Books Installations Broadcasts About

Mojave Desert

A landscape that functions like memory.

Twenty miles west of Barstow, where the desert appears especially endless, I glimpsed the Tank Man in Tiananmen Square.

Los Angeles

The games we play in museums.

C. and I play a game whenever we enter a gallery: after spending a few minutes looking at every painting in the room, we guess each other’s favorite.

Los Angeles

Landscapes that look like scenes from tomorrow.

William Kentridge’s smoldering landscapes look like scenes from a fast-approaching future. Meanwhile, a Chinese surveillance balloon was spotted over Montana.

Colorado

A fingernail moon rose over the Rockies.

Heavy art followed by a fingernail moon over the Rockies as we crossed the Continental Divide.

Missouri

Movements are a relic of the 20th century.

At Cracker Barrel, C. and I discussed Tristan Tzara, Model 500, Basic Channel, and vaporwave over Grandpa’s Country Fried Breakfast.

Journal

Sometimes you can’t find the door.

C. and I spent the afternoon in a dark gallery and tested how our video reflected off different surfaces.

Ohio

August 18, 2022

This morning I fed a robot a few sentences from the novel I’m writing, and it generated some startlingly accurate pictures.

Ohio

May 4, 2022

There’s a waxing crescent moon, and I’m reading about God.

Journal

Violent Light

London. After six weeks here, I still find myself stopping in the street, stunned by how low the clouds hang on this island.

London

March 19, 2022

It was nice to believe in the future for a little while.

Journal

Evensong

Yesterday I saw the birthplace of William Blake, now a strip of concrete between an Indian restaurant and an expensive handbag store.

London

The faces of his subjects melt in the rain.

London. A sunny Wednesday morning with highs in the 50s, the sun goes down at 5:30pm, and I’m recovering from an exhibition of Francis Bacon’s animal paintings.

Mojave Desert

October 21, 2021

A quiet day in the desert spent watching the shadows of the Joshua trees grow.

New York City

October 15, 2021

A sunny Friday in October with a high in the 80s, and it’s startling to see Christ looking so human, so plain.

Journal

Extension

Sunset: 6:18pm. A high of 70 degrees and 84% humidity. Spent a late night at the cemetery chapel, tending to the responses to After the End.

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