realUNreal Arnold J. Kemp & Kevin Killian
April 17, 2013
I forgot to mention that little notice that came in the mail? You’ve been evicted
and now you have to live in Fremont.
And I forgot to tell you there are lilies climbing up the chimney, choking on the pollen, each one with a little face that whispers, “Murder”
Well, I forgot to tell you that when the master is talking what matters is that the cotton is pure and softened.
and I forgot to tell you to expect the hours to come, expect distances, pale hairy
arms, a counter-tenor and strings.
One hundred per cent of your grant must support programming for children
and I forgot to tell you about the snails, tiny whirls of tender flesh, at this
restaurant cited for treason by the FDA
I’m currently trying to coordinate a critical forum on African diasporic art and technology, tentatively titled “Afrotech” for our Fall 2001 issue, so
I forgot to mention that nothing in particular happens here.
There are voices.
I forgot to tell you I haven’t been tested in five years and three months, but hey, we’re all living in a post-AIDS consciousness, now, right?
It was on the tip of my tongue like a snake unrolling a rubber
It was something about those watermelon seeds I sent you. If you sow them
under a full moon you’ll have seven years of bad luck. If you sow and
water them under a new moon – well then you’ll get a surprise. All I can
say is that what you get will be little, black and hungry.
I forgot to mention it before.
For your safety and the safety of others, your movements have been videotaped
for security purposes. Your consent is neither necessary nor solicited, but implicit.
“C’est la vie! ” as we say in the Bastille.
What? I don’t speak French, nor do I eat snails. Snails are for the birds and I
forgot that. I forgot to do the wash. I forgot the necessity of raising
questions and problems related to society’s reappropriation of this
complex area of social life.
I forgot to tell you when I went out of my head, after living on your body for year after year, so totally you destroyed my freedom.
Sorry I forgot that it’s not fair to characterize guns or snow as beautiful because
they both can kill.
I also forgot decay. The left over fragments dream the dream of eternal
existence that descends through the ages and awakens feverish minds to
eternal truth. The youth of vampires.
Artists : Nayland Blake, Mark Dion, Knutte Wester, Matthew Higgs