In search for the largest crustaceans and seashells in the ocean Carmela DeSanso swam through the warmest waters of the Caribbean just south of the equator. Starting in Venezuela she followed the piranhas and the sharks to hidden destinations. But they only ate meat and could not tell her where to find crabs of the darkest blues and seashells of elephantine size. After being shot through a jet stream she ended up in Miami. She then decided to come out of the water and live in a palm tree. The tree provided coconut provisions and iguana lunches. One night while sleeping peacefully her palm frond hammock snapped and she fell to the ground with a hard thump. Jumping immediately to her feet she began to run back towards the ocean. Wondering why she ever left the salty blue waters, tears swelled in her eyes blinding her vision. She inadvertently ended up running onto an airplane to NYC she mistook for the road to Hobe Beach. The tears cleared like the tides washing away garbage on the beach and she found herself at 90th street on Rockaway Beach drinking piña coladas and eating tacos. The water there was too cold for her to continue her search. She could not hold her breath as long under the cold water nor find a wet suit to fit her small fingers that would keep her searching hands from going numb. Staying away from sleeping in trees and swimming in cold waters she decided to walk around the place. Grey was the new blue. Buildings were the new coral reefs. Skyscrapers were the new lighthouses. Cold was the new hot. Cool was the new warm. To keep herself warm she would dance rather than swim and sing rather than talk. Dancing and singing out on the streets, through bedrooms, in Dim Sum banquet halls, atop color lit floors, while trusting the archaeologist, inside smelly bathrooms, to rooms on the Bowery, under dinner tables, in parks, in the light of fire signs, inside wine glasses, between the light bulbs of chandeliers, in the hands of boys, in the gnarl of poets, between the buns of burgers, in ballet mirrors, in bat caves, while jumping from rooftop to rooftop, through snow storms, while sliding on black ice all the way uptown back downtown, and inside the haunted theaters of which all at one point were entirely under water. The haunted waters of NYC are what Carmela picked as her new home. After some time she began her crustacean and seashell search again only this time by catapulting herself back to Miami rather than swimming there. Performing the cancan in mid-air the whole way there she realized she brought mirrors, bat caves, Rockaway Beach, and friends with her in the catapult landing at BFI….
Jessie Gold grew up in Miami, Florida and is a graduate of the Dance Program at the New World School of the Arts. She continued her education at New York University’s Gallatin School of Individualized Study where she began to expand her dance practice into Choreography, Fine Art and Cultural Studies. As an individual artist and a performer she has worked with a wide variety of acclaimed performers such as artist Robert Melee, and dancers Maria Hassabi, Caitlin Cook, Justine Lynch, Nancy Garcia, and Paige Martin. She is also a founding member of the dance/art/music collective SKINT. With all of these endeavors, she has produced boundary crossing performance works that have been presented in art galleries, museums, bars, and on the stage in venues ranging from The Dance Theater Workshop (NY), the Kitchen (NY), Greene Naftali Gallery (NY), MOCA (Miami), and various European Dance Festivals. She recently completed a residency at the Fountainhead Residency Program in Miami where the work for this exhibition was created. Gold lives and works in New York City.