Cyber-Palimpsest With Stills, Video, Audio, And Psycho Haikus by Javier Hernandez-Miyares
{ Category Archives }
The Following Is Short Video Of The Exhibition:
Some Pics:
See More Pics Here.
Mr. Tamale (Antonio Mendoza And Alberto Miyares) Performed With Invited Guests Javier Hernandez-Miyares And John Pietaro. The Following Is A Short Clip From The First Set:
More Data To Come
Drawing By JHM
Compound curvature
Flowers crush concrete sorrow
Anatomic bombs
Haiku By CheeseFlap
Fumeroism comes to 17 Frost in two days:
Music by DJ Onda Skillet begins at 10:00PM
Pic of Fumeroism 17 Frost Facade Mural By David Scarborough
Fu.mer.o.ism (foo’mare’oh’izm) n. 1. A movement in modern art developed at the crossroads of the 20th – 21st c., based upon the idea of illustrating form with an exaggeration toward abstraction combined with a wide range of intense, unnatural ‘skittled-colors’ enveloped by a continuous black contour 2. A harmonious infusion among expressive lines, shapes and colors 3. Intense; bright – distorted; linear.
Pic By Manuel de la Portilla
Too Many Bugs (33 Haikus by JHM)
My voice is choking
from too many grasshoppers.
I wish i could sing.
Cicada cadence:
Everything must be written
and it will be law.
My mother was stung,
and by serendipity
i came to being.
How to cover ass:
Burrow like a Cicada;
Hide from predators.
Voices of crickets
describe our moment of death.
Tiny violins.
All crickets must die.
Their tiny violins crushed
by the conductor.
I don’t like roaches,
because they make me jealous;
They scare girls away.
Metamorphosis:
Gregor Samsa is my friend
and so is his dad.
Music and laughter.
According to Kant we can’t
understand insects.
Heavenly beehive:
Where angels are the insects
stinging men to death.
Katydid or not
is the telescoping gag
that fossilizes us.
For mother mantis:
I did not want to exist.
Why did you mate me?
Is there shame in this?
Lorca was devoured by
fascists and maggots.
Insect universe:
Where sound devours silence
and we are silent.
Bunuel loved insects.
He knew what was coming to him.
They took him away.
Dante observed bugs;
In Empyrean, angels
swarm heaven like bees.
The universe drones
and a wurlitzer of bones
whistles a graveyard.
Creeley lost an eye
and that socket was a hive
for a swarm of bees.
The katydid speaks
in a language that fools know:
Binary Hipster.
Who killed the poet?
Only Lorca knows the truth:
The sound of crickets.
My corpse is shameful.
Insects devour my sex
while i am naked.
What i expected:
God dreamed me and then woke up.
Thank you for the flies.
Bugs Devour God:
His great book is on a vine
that xtians consume.
If God were a bug,
I would stomp it and crush it.
I hate intruders.
You make me human.
Exoskeleton in you
dissolves in your sex.
The universe dies,
and like a praying mantis
is a cannibal.
There is no way out.
We are in the roach motel
that god left to us.
The flies will signal
the place where the poets died;
Via Appia.
Bugs that frighten me
scatter me in my silence.
Can’t turn on the light.
What we will become:
Insect robots created
with anguish and steel.
Flies of the future:
Nanorobot memories
of humanity.
Piping is over;
Supersedure now begins.
Long live the new queen.
What does space smell like?
It smells like honey sulfer
stung by our being.
For Mike C.
_______________________________
7-22
i have added this Haiku by CheeseFlap:
Are we not bugs too?
Gnawing at god’s creation?
Trapped by gravity?
and my Haiku response:
Our thoughts are fossils;
Creations sticky resin
is where they reside.
Gaelic Mechica
Coatlicue Tensil Bytes
Earnest Surreal Is:
- – - – - – -
Haiku For Leonora By JHM
A grid of lines dissect each other: like blocks of streets make a city, this network of artists crosses, creating a power grid. This show is a matrix, a lattice, a reticulation.
The artists: Deborah Adams, Elizabeth Ennis, Joanna Hartell, Margaret Heffernan, Jeanelle Marie, Hillary Moore, David Moreira, Patricia Sprott, and Lili White.
Photo Stream Here.
The music was curated by Matthew Ostrowski, and on this performance was joined by Andrea Parkins.
I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron’s point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it…
Saint Teresa Of Avila
For The Love Of God
Suffer And Die Together
On The Iron Point
Haiku by JHM
Harlequin Romance?
Dreams of the disemboweled?
Nope, “the love of God”
Haiku by CheeseFlap
Aakash and JHM
Last November Aakash Nihalani had a simultaneous exhibition at the Bose Pacia Gallery in DUMBO and at 17 Frost in Williamsburg.
We present here a link to a video of the artist in conversation produced by Bose Pacia.
Aakash Nihalani In Conversation
