Garage Collective live at The Blue Room

Music by Sean Thompson’s Weird Ears Quintet

Part of Bubbling Blue Spring

April 2023

there goes the point, 2022

in collaboration with Emma Morrison

Exploring the nuances of deep relationship, the richness of shared

history and the depth of knowing that only comes with going through

it together... the cyclical nature and ebb and flow between two people

over time. What is it to hold history in between two bodies? To dig it

out from under the nails and from the tangled web of hair. To tease

out the things we conceal from ourselves and each other, the distances

that seem so small and yet so vast- to be in contact but be alone.

And inversely, to allow the permeability to be the consolation

of isolation. To drift in this ocean of culture and find solace in the

reality of skin and bone, flesh and hair, wood and earth. Blending

symbolic, transcendent and surreal

with the intricacies of the ordinary... the personal and the ecologic,

human time and earth time. Layers folding into one another,

like the folds of the brain and mycelium of interconnection,

a reciprocity of attention.

We walk over and over, time over and over, lost over and over,

and you and I are here over and over.

the additional spoonful of medium

which is the middle which is in between,

which is neutral, normal, not small or large,

both, both small and large.

it is the point at which balance is reached

or simply the inevitable midway

between any two things, bits, ideas, etc.

medium is the in between that is

practically invisible, merely a

phenomenological breeze

through which we pass.

it is the silent freighter that moves through

the night unseen. to see the

unseen, does it take away the magic?

will it make everything we were

starting to get to know disappear?

melt the past down to ore and cast it

off the frozen pier

stumbling ‘round in the dark

for long enough to wake up startled in the storm

hoarding proverbs of your own

wait it out

shadows swirl towards the floor

and congregate outside your door

waiting for centuries to loose the grip

on phantoms sailing out to sea

trading in their tragedies

wait it out

-asher horton

Reflection melds visual and performance art.

House’s dance and Baumgartner’s

animation are mutual trick mirrors;

each presents the same narrative yet

distorts it like funhouse glass.

As the film bobs between these opposing

realities, the viewer must confront reality’s

multitude of interpretations.

hair grows like grass does

over and over

like children and love do

over and over

bound together by longing, by nature, by vanity

we braid ourselves

over and over

into each other

mother, sister, friend, lover

(one must go over, one must go under)

there was a wooden porch

that we stood on and looked

into each others soft, feminine eyes

close faces, focus giving crosseyed sensation

when you start to hallucinate

start to see yourself in their eyes

start to project into them

it was sunny and warm and green

that early morning summer heat

which makes small droplets of sweat form

on your face like freckles, we both had freckles

we followed each other through winding patterns

like children playing, like lovers loving,

dancers dancing, and athletes competing

structured and fleeting like

cold air up from the grass,

still slightly wet

it must have been the morning

and we must have been each other in some way

she was leading me through

the most intimate performance

a ritual of season and of sincerity

smiling and running and falling and moving

through the are we had thickened

with our thoughts, with our sweat

Phantom movements, we are passing through here.

To improvise the process between

remembering and forgetting.

To reckon with the reciprocity

of our bodies digging.

I forget.

“Again, and,”

“Maybe again, like this,”

“Again,”

“There’s something you missed,”

“Remaining, like this,”