Reverse of Volume RG, Yasuaki Onishi
I was in some foul mood yesterday morning. My boyfriend sustained the wild lashes, the dust from Montrose construction found its way under my sunnies and into my eye, and I sulked (with one eye open) all the way to the coffee shop where I ran into former friends and acquaintances long out of range of my sympathy. I thought April was long and we know that it’s cruel, but May opened up like an abscess underneath the thin skin we laid between the months and there I found myself swimming in stick and puss.
My boyfriend and I made our way towards Rice University to see this installation. It was nothing short of magic and no less powerful than enchantment, both realizations I found in my own consciousness: the ability to reach into one’s memories/associations and project them onto a sheet of plastic with black hot glue, melted and stringy. ”He must be some kind of magician or something,” said D and though it certainly seemed that way, I believe that Yasuaki Onishi depended on the cognitive abilities of his audience to spin his magic. We’re all magicians. We create mountains.
