I cannot endure horror movies or roller coasters.
Neither can I engage with sensory experience in the form of religion or art that doesn't grab me by the throat and shake me.
When did I become so intolerant. The answer writhes somewhere between the incest survivor girlfriends, the artists who lie to each other, the memorial for the children kept alive for nazi blood transfusions, rwanda, jenin, and the old copper mines in the forest of rouyn noranda.
The only art I seem to engage with is an art of endurance, of urgency and risk. I loved design and craft...but now it has slipped my mind to even look for it.
I believe in the pursuit of justice, but I don't think it is ever reached, and I am no longer convinced that art can help. For this reason, I have been thinking about no longer making art.
Some things I have seen recently:
Fania Brantovsky, partisan fighter of Vilne, who smuggled in and out of the Ghetto by walking miles thru under ground sewers. Currently under investigation by the Lithuanian government for war crimes /crimes against Lithuania.
Vandalism at the jewish community centre on Tisha b'Av. I sold this photo to the JTA for one week's lunch money.
Rouyn - Noranda
and other moments, decisions, and glances that I needed to be a part of rather than document.