rooms

I always find it frustrating to try to ascribe work to some particular category, because work is so many things at once. Labels and categories are restraints and in terms of artwork (as many artists would agre), open-endedness is preferable. I would offer that I, like many others, am a constant shifting back and forth between the bedroom and the living room, perhaps a hallway. I suppose there has to be some front and performance, something fixed, some constants. But how can they really be constants? Constants change depending on the audience and the surrounding circumstances. Entertaining in the living room serves to benefit oneself and others, to fulfill a role in society as well as some . So the living room becomes necessary to learn and to teach. Sincere and cynical attempts at entertaining certain others, as well as an imagining of oneself as something else within parameters is healthy. Its purpose fluctuates depending on the circumstances; at times it is a reflection of aspirations, at others it is derived from some simulated or authentic necessity, and still other times serves as a source of twisted pleasure. Then there is the constant retreat back to the bedroom for introspection, to gather oneself, to reject certain aspects of the performance, reinforce others, perfect the act, sort it all out. Futile efforts to move furniture and items from the living room back to the bedroom and vice versa, and then abandoning such projects mid action are not uncommon. Many items remain in transit, boxed and unboxed in the hallway, deciding whether they should be in this room or that, or both. A nagging thought in the back of your mind that you might have to excuse yourself unexpectedly and never come back. Living room and bedroom converge to create a gray hallway that is the self.