Bob Gruen. John Lennon, NYC.
On Christmas Day, my dad told me there was one gift that hadn’t arrived in time. My mom didn’t hear him say this, and a couple of days later mentioned that a “John Lennon poster” was due to arrive in the mail that day. My dad, indeterminately frustrated or disappointed, was upset with her for spoiling the gift. It made its way back here in a cardboard tube I use for posters I lack the space for and now resides in the back of my closet.
Enter the east wall, imagine it as the wall and everything affixed to it is removed, separated from the space.
That is how you view it now. I will build context around it. As you step over the threshold, the wall and its furnishings exist in a vacuum.
Above the door/the frame of the door exists like a shelf for a small creature, or a tall one. The latter is the case.
The birthday cigarette.
Borrowed from someone, thieved rather, to gift a close friend for their birthday. Camel Crush. Assume it won’t be smoked.
Cleveland Zoo Keychain with my name, flashing only between 2pm and 6pm in the spring and summer, when the sun shines directly on it. I have never been to Cleveland.
EAST WALL
Enter the collage. I dare you. Click it!
What if I told you you could look in the cabinet.
The bass almost nearly doesn’t count, but it leans partially on the wall. Not affixed. Acquired simply because I mentioned to a musician friend that I wanted to learn. I don't know if he has any intention of asking for it back, but I have the intention of giving it. I promise.
This guitar is called Cash, after the Johnny. My mom took me to the same place I acquired Mirror 1. The second story is a small guitar and bass repair and resale shop. I picked it out in November, when I was 17. But I wasn’t allowed it until Christmas. My dad hates when my mom does this, let us pick a present.
East Vase
A contemporary artist named Jonas wood painted Matisse’s L'Atelier Rouge on a two-dimensional, space confined vase. His wife is a ceramicist. I stole the idea. Flat out stole it, painting my room in the same two-dimensional, confined way. I broke it into a diptych. Don’t know if its done.
Moving from east wall. In the same way you can run your finger along the wall of a room without lifting it and walk in circles forever, you too can follow the organization of this place. You cannot visit the west wall from the east without first seeing the north or south. I can, of course, but you may not. Because I said so.* If you move on to the west wall, you will not be able to return to the east wall without first venturing through either the east or north walls. Things exist differently here— singularly. As I said, in a vacuum.
* My dad would use this same reasoning, even if going against it had no consequences.
I don't feel particularly bad about not attributing work to its artist in this realm; In two months, I will peel everything off the walls and the attributions will be revealed to me once more. Mostly because they are all written on the back.
HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ANYTHING HAVE WE?
WELCOME
*
The light & fan remote
The remote is fastened to the wall, but, the walls integrity is questionable at best. It wasn’t here when they finished the building. A slam of the door will knock the remote out of its frame. The remote turns on a bulb that is burnt out and a fan that accumulates dust at an unfathomable rate. The light switch in the hall (inaccessible from within the room) must be on at all times because it directs electricity to the circuit in my room. I think this shoebox used to be part of the kitchen.
The Heinekoin
A relic from a campaign I made in an advertising class, where we made a fake country where the common tongue was “cheers!” And they paid for goods with bottle caps. Haphazardly resting on the haphazardly taped horse figurine. I only bought the six pack “to feel closer to the brand” and to “inform my creative decision-making” and I only drank one.
The horse figurine
Readymade and found on the passenger-side floor of my roommate’s car. We don’t have that car anymore, but I drove it to and from the grocery store once a week. She once told me, “as long as you don’t hit any people, you can drive it.” Not cars, not lamp posts, people. That was her caveat.