I was in a dalliance with tsunami, a study of the valence between oceanic events and distant friendship, surfing (oh yes), longing and melancholy. Using a free scrap from a printing press, watercolors, ink, charcoal and found seaweed I began inscribing. These inscriptions became, what a friend later called ‘your selkie story,’ without revision. Soon the process began again, as in an ocean cycle, and took the form of loose leafleft fragment, made of mulberry kozo paper and plant-based vellum, acrylic and watercolor and typewriter ink.
So here is el Rincon is an artist book and meditation in physical materials, field notes, and somatic care, led along the way by Luce Irigaray's Marine Lover of Friedrich Nietzsche. These narratives of banks, shelves, crags and cliffs, palisades, bluffs, calving glaciers are called to an antithesis, to activate their forms, prepositions, those emanations blurring – the energies sometimes invisible tearing off into declension. deconstruct(ion). Wondering around various loves of to rise, to sink, loves and mirages of zero ( O ).
The little book has been carted around with me in an old VHS box for seven years.
Text from the book:
“canto gives over to sickness, as in green, the empty hand of the atmosphere again. deep edge of flame, tsunami subrosa is mistaken for an emptying shadow, the turning out before snow or tornado. bearing water. breaking. a yellow course of blood below arterial lengths in our hands. you're facing difficulty: differentiating your love from that of your lover's lovers. you are attempting to recover the fraction: yet act into no direction, which could be considered every direction, without originating motion. so no vector, rushing out of you, silencing momentum, silicon and wax. you might cry out, and wonder who would ever cover such static behavior.”