Katya Grokhovsky, Untitled 2011"What you have to play with is yours". Gertrude Stein.
In one month this project will end, and in a little more than two months I will graduate.
Is it time? what is time?
Loosing myself and looping in the loop of Stein's writing, I dust the roses of my labors and sniff the moody Chicago icy sunshine of a brand new tired, sleepless day.
Perhaps, there I reside, in the never attained horizons of new and born super human knowledge. What do you mean what do I know?
I know that and I know this and perhaps nothing and does it matter after all.
Relational aesthetics and participatory poetry, feminist ideals and my fists into the thin, frozen, air. She said writing into the unknown is the best strategy. Let me gallop there, holding on, just barely onto the rough constraints of my time here.
I do not know how good or good or not I am or great or not , perhaps never reaching the best or the ambitions or the real and realities of it I'll be able to truly fix all of this to the hems of my lacy sexy nightgowns. I do not own any lacy sexy gowns. Black or white?
In high heels I struggle, pain acquiring legs, feet, status of a woman and falling harder and standing once again.Colors flying, clothing I have been given and ultimate reward points I have been able to gather.
Not gaining theory and irrelevance I am able to keep preparing. Color, folding classicism into chaotic struggles. Shifting uncomfortably, yes this iceberg has been there all along.
