mixed media,archesAlbany County Jail, NY 2001
Possession; possession with intent3rd degree
Possession; possession with intent3rd degree
Nolo contendere
I danced myself right into the tomb
First Incarceration- I thought i was a cultural tourist, an artist. Like Burroughs, Blinky Palermo, Kurt Cobain, Bukowski. Surely i'm not a street addict. I had an excellent job thanks to Pratt. It was just another story to tell. I didn't know that trouble doesn't stop when you say stop.
This is the cell where the artist/addict was born (Each would fight for dominance and survival for years.) Many years later i still close my eyes and remember the sounds of the tier at night;sad singing, street rap, swearing. I keep with me the perfect symmetry of the lines, the compartmentalized life; like the food tray. It had the boxes of a Rothko, the lines of a Barnett Newman. Institutions combined shades of my old life; with the color and texture of the new. Though when you''re deep inside walls you despise it- sometimes from out here it has the nostalgia of golden days of no responsibility and freedom from dope sickness.
This is the cell where the artist/addict was born (Each would fight for dominance and survival for years.) Many years later i still close my eyes and remember the sounds of the tier at night;sad singing, street rap, swearing. I keep with me the perfect symmetry of the lines, the compartmentalized life; like the food tray. It had the boxes of a Rothko, the lines of a Barnett Newman. Institutions combined shades of my old life; with the color and texture of the new. Though when you''re deep inside walls you despise it- sometimes from out here it has the nostalgia of golden days of no responsibility and freedom from dope sickness.
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