LIFE IN THE DARK [THE FELICE BROTHERS]
At 6000 feet elevation, snowpack runoff sluices Crater Lake which rests in the shell of a collapsed volcano in the Mantezuma Valley of Oregon, the summit of which once stood 12,000 feet tall before before reversing its stature to claim the title of America’s deepest lake one unassuming day nearly 8 millennia past. My passenger window, a portal to another time, is stubbornly filled with blue. I’m telling you this because I want you too to imagine the metallic heat of the Apple Mac ProRetina (9”) singeing my thighs on this winding mountain road. To feel the weight of the aluminum casing pressing down on me as the cab of the Mazda B-Series veers to the left, to the right, and Life in the Dark wraps itself around us. Continue reading “LIFE IN THE DARK: THE FELICE BROTHERS”
Originally published on Atlas Obscura: http://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/why-forensic-anthropologists-want-to-bury-bodies-around-la
Ask a writer to describe Los Angeles and immediately one is presented with images of bubbling asphalt, toxic particulates, the unnatural white light, chapped lips from low humidity, the screeching Santa Anas, cicada’s chaffing wings, the way nature—or what’s left of the ‘natural’ world—encroaches on the idea of the city…
Los Angeles, aptly defined by its spatial proximities, the specificities of its terrain and psycho-spiritual meteorological qualities, demands a certain compliance of mind and body from its living inhabitants. It’s no surprise, then, that some think its resident dead should receive commensurate attention.
Originally published on TROP, 2014.
Richard T. Walker is a British artist now based in San Francisco. His sumptuous video projections, text pieces, and musical accompaniments make up a body of work which charts and challenges the idiosyncrasies of the human condition. Through comic and endearing gestures he encircles the tenuous bond between man and nature, exposing the disregard with which the world responds to our fervent desires. Walker’s engagement with the American landscape—specifically the desert hinterlands of the West—playfully calls into question our longstanding relationship with the sublime.
Sharp October light. There is birth, life, death, of course. It is all I can think about. Have you tried, ever, to isolate a single strand of white noise? What creatures were we that floated soft in white milk, gulping down fluid in a flawed, practiced breath? Our bodies, now: conflicted, gnawed upon. The welcomed sites of rupture and supine defamation. We exist as gentle bursts of gun fire, precarious as geode bullet holes. Pain exists in the concave, the convex, the hard formation of rock.
Ghost Box is based on the true story of Emily, who, in the fall of 2012, arrived in the parking lot of a vacant big-box store, or “ghost box,” near downtown Los Angeles with 45-pound bags of cat food. She converted the otherwise vacant property into an impromptu bird sanctuary, and evaded arrest by the LAPD for months. Emerson Whitney adventures into the weirdness of Emily’s story and the strangeness of vacant urban space, writing wildness and ferocity into the strip mall. Continue reading “EMERSON WHITNEY’S GHOST BOX”