May 20-22, 2022
The bleach paintings presented here are selected pieces I’ve created since the start of the pandemic. The process of painting with bleach was born from a poem I wrote about associating the smell of bleach with a freshly cleaned subway station and the subway as an allegory for the futility of resisting irreversible change – the powerlessness we feel in transit, the power we give up when life takes control.
The video companion for my prose piece, “About Futility and Broadways”, was projected on loop.
Today I spilled bleach on my skin and it corroded into something I did not know.
I tried my best to wipe it off but only came away with the bits of myself left behind.
When I looked in the mirror I could see my ribs jutting out
And remembered the feeling of scavenging through my parent’s cupboard.
On the train, they didn’t notice.
No one realized I wasn’t the same anymore,
Or that I miss home sometimes.
And this metal car feels like a rollercoaster too,
For a while ago might’ve been fun for me,
But I’m a little wiser now and fear
That I couldn’t get out if I tried or wanted to,
That the decision is not up to me or any of us really.
You see, I wasn’t always a skeleton.
I had flesh, and blood, and guts like you.
But I moved to a city of vultures,
And became intoxicated with the smell of bleach.