OK KO: Broodies in the Nesting
Mirror, Mirror in the coop, my father, my further, my feather my child, my friend, how could he be? Who coup it be? We don't get it. We know. We don't care. We be. In da mirror. Misterminor, Mister Mayor, not the meaner, just a mirror.
"We knew the eggs weren't any good anyway, so we just let her do her thing."
In da mirror. Mirrors, Chicken sexing machines. Don't Eat. Don't Lick. Don't get High. Levitate. Carve that mirror - it'll watch your eyes out. Fuck the reflects: We are the Queens of Heart, stucco-ing illuminated incubation seeds. We are survival modes, insemination products, flag shadows, sandbags and lasers, cul-de-sacs and distilleries. Hey Mirror, don't back stab. We've seen, we've glimpsed, but never watched. Mr. Accident checked for bumps. All is accurate. A fast-pace back-and-forth love swamp. When the moon, it's your eye, like a whole pizza pie, that's da mirror.
The official Wednesday night performance (Nov 7) will be followed by three gallery days of aftermath, detritus and deities (Nov 8, 9, 10).
Presented by White Columns. Curated by Matthew Higgs.