"They are not so much talking to me, I think, as to the stone. I am very happy that the stone has got into their heads.... We are already locked into our own bodies... It's very complex. You pass from one feeling to an another. Like you are being carried away on a raft... It's like tripping."
Said the artist, who's spending a week inside a man-shaped hollow within a 2-ton split-in-half, pushed-together rock.
The "tripping" part reminds me of the movie "Altered States."
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I hope he loaded up on his father's rose-smelling fart pills.
You need two more artists for a paper and scissors installation alongside.
Back to the basics. The beginning drugged state in 53 years of people self altering sobriety with a long list of pharmacies for the fun of doing it.
This is what you do when you need to be the center of attention and don't have any good ideas.
Maybe he shoulda waited until the completion of NASA's Space Poop Challenge (Nov. 2016),
http://www.natureworldnews.com/articles/33135/20161130/win-nasa-30-000-space-poop-challenge.htm
Stone stillsuit. Shitty art.
They come and talk into the crack, read poetry to me, or tell me about their nightmares or their dreams
The Merck Manual. Skin Disorders. Itching. Insect bites. Hives. Jock Itch. Dry skin. Psoriasis. Poision Ivy.
they come and talk into the crack
....but they inhale deeply before they approach and are careful not to smell the crack. Usually this is good practice. You have to know the indications.
This is phart, of course. But I'm amazed by people who are not in the least claustrophobic. I never knew that I was until I tried to have an mri. I climbed in blithely. I climbed out in under a minute. I think I could do it with controlled exposure. A week? No. Just shoot me.
I hope the new Trumpian immigration regime prevents him from travelling in Alaska or Montana while reprising his sewn into his bearskin routine.
A bit like the old tradition of the anchorite hermit (who immure themselves forever away from human contact), though in this case humility is the last thing on his mind.
Attention seeking behavior.
If he survives the ordeal, the performance artist who has previously spent a fortnight sewn-up inside a stuffed bear, will attempt to become a human hen and hatch a dozen eggs by sitting on them for weeks on end.
Right, as if it has not been done a thousand times before.
How do you know when someone is NOT an artist?
How do you know when someone is NOT an artist?
Much like race or sex or nationality, it's all about identification. If someone says they are an artist, then they are. If they do not, they are not.
Much like race or sex or nationality, it's all about identification. If someone says they are an artist, then they are. If they do not, they are not.
This is sarcasm, no?
If sincere I have a jar waiting for your brain.
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