when the caustic cools

Vignettes Marquee is pleased to present the solo work of Mel Carter
October 27, 2016

outside of 1617 Yale Avenue
see you on the street

what do you do in a place where everything rejects your touch?
let your guard down, go quiet / silence, don’t draw attention, try to listen anyway

she stands her ground, her quiet blooms saying “i need a little privacy”, and her defenders react the way they should when another unexpectedly breaches her privacy. you yelp and pull yourself away quickly, examining only your own injuries while simultaneously sucking your thumb (lmao a.k.a. lamenting my anguish online) and exclaiming “FUCK FUCK”. a brash kick directed at her trunk, you shuffle away uncaring and pissed with a “why do these things always happen to me/woe is me/this place is stupid” mentality.
No one will miss you here.

She blatantly warned you, how could you not see i do not know —

she exists solely for herself and tries to hold enough water to continue as always, with a little extra for friends/passersby (what’s the difference when you’re both going through the same thing). she provides for others, a selfless act in a place where she is her only defense.

Why was your immediate response anger to another who overtly advised caution? when she has been conditioned for these harsh environments why would it be her fault to exist just as she was created, because another was being thoughtless? Tell me how it’s different from your broken skin. why solidify that anger by adding insult to injury, memories swelling like skin around your actions; her only defense as she grows towards the sun is further preparations for future hurt. it’s these small things that seem to affect me more and more these days; if you’re doing this to something you seemingly don’t care about, what will you do when something really angers you? similarly to you (maybe, but your lack of sensitivity makes me doubt this) and your injuries, why would i not prepare myself for your own negative potential?

how can we care for, how can we caress and support these solitary beings, unused to touch or affection. how can we be tender — there are many things words cannot do. the language of careful touch, our first introduction and most primal language, feels so natural to me. it’s not just about lovers or specific partnerships, more of a how to provide genuine affection and non-verbal support in everyday context, so it doesn’t feel so foreign when it’s given sincerely. pulling away, is it me or is it the standardized lack of nurture here? leaving the sun and returning to cold, how do you find that tenderness and care you require? maybe others don’t crave that which you do, but wouldn’t it be nice to try a little tenderness?

IMAGE: when the caustic cools, (Still) Single Channel Video, 2016


Crushing Sensation

Max Cleary

October 13, 2017

Crushing Sensation is a one night exhibition of new images and sculpture by Max Cleary that is rooted in the relationship between the industries of residential development and film production.

I’ve had a long standing fascination with the built world and its relationship to the roles of construction and labor within art and film making as well as how both industries are ultimately the business of the spectacle. In both cases the spectacle is a point of culmination as well as what is being sold to us; it is the holy grail. Development and real estate depend wholly on the finished structure. Without it there is nothing to desire, build, market, sell, or have. Film making occupies a more open space where a finished, physical thing is not necessarily its end point. Instead, it is the viewing of a film and the experience one derives from it that make up its apex.

The work in Crushing Sensation is about the structures and equations under girding these two industries of spectacle. Each piece uses the visual languages of contemporary modern home design and stage production to generate fictional spaces in perpetual states of incompleteness. Similar to behind the scenes documentation, they offer a view into a skeletal architecture where notes and tools meant only for the crew’s eyes are left unhidden and the tableau is forced to fight with its own process for the spotlight. It is an investigation of how the things that affect us are made and the effects of a constructed authenticity.

Stage 3: 150 Tons of Silent Air, archival pigment print, 24″ x 36″, 2016