Bigindicator

ARTIST STATEMENT #44

ARTIST STATEMENT #44   My Honorificabilitudinitatibus dreams, my expectant heart, my hopeful head, my tingling, typing fingers, tinged with tinted dread. A blue sky with white, fluffy clouds lines the dome of my inner skull, blinking stars dot its curvature at night, like the points where the hairline fractures of battles innumerable reach the breaking point and pierce the brittle helmet of righteousness, like First Concubines ignite an otherwise dreary night in the Oval Office, like Obama's... [more]
Posted by James Bradley on 2/21/14

ARTIST STATEMENT #43

ARTIST STATEMENT #43   The mummified hand of Edgar Allan Poe, generally thought to be authentic, walks on fingers mimicking feet through the landscape of my twenty-second year, the year in which I perceived that perception is possible, the year in which I presumed to see. The hand, having penned , having assisted the brain in piercing the ravine, would no doubt fetch a handsome sum on the black market of genuine relics of rarefied genius, were it not currently indisposed with the thorny task... [more]
Posted by James Bradley on 1/28/14

ARTIST STATEMENT #42

ARTIST STATMENT #42   The Hyperboreans have infiltrated the database, black paintings line the Avenue of the Americas disguised as logos and window displays, a concise and timely expression of negation in an age of information affirmation. Pod People fill the sidewalks with revisionist histories of Modernism and its myriad heresies both pro- and contra-Self, the line being vague and the Pods having no room in their shopping bags for ambiguity or frivolity above and beyond the immediately... [more]
Posted by James Bradley on 9/24/13

ARTIST STATEMENT #41

ARTIST STATEMENT #41   Swan Pond. Swans drift upon the surface of the water with their reflections, with their cygnets, with their entire cosmologies extending outward from the core of their corporeal bodies, through organs and bones, through sinews and synapses, through bacterial colonies drifting upon the surface of a pool of blood, through flesh and feather, through the pond and its moss, insects which skim the water's skin, ripples which extend outward from various points of agitation,... [more]
Posted by James Bradley on 8/19/13

"Where Aren't They Now? SoHo Artists' Spaces of the 1970s"

   Posted on behalf of Penny Dartmouth.   View Where Aren't They Now?: SoHo Artists' Spaces of the 1970s in a larger map [more]
Posted by James Bradley on 7/25/13