Entry for It’s Heaven, It’s Fine
is a digital installation / record by Gabriel Jesiolowski with video + sound collaborations with Darío Ameni + Mona Demone.
This must be metaphysical, because if it’s not, it’s lonely.
Because I often feel a rickety kind of discontent while swimming through the internet. It’s private and cold. A tunnel between forms.
For the purpose of this show, we choose metaphysical.
In this show, Entry For It’s Heaven, It’s Fine, the tender void happens between frames, between isolated points in a timeline that we reproduce in digital story: infinite and infinitely replaceable. It’s the physical space that we couldn’t afford.
Darío and I work in different cities. We drop folders into the palest blue clouds and type back and forth, skip side to side, late at night. Our patterns of text(s) form a scroll that gathers our failures, samples our desires and occasionally renders an image . We are usually talking about in-between space, which we share, confidently, sweetly. The moving images from NEVERSLEEP were made by placing the camera or phone in the crook of my neck, and like that, tilting, touching, tracing. At one point, the camera balanced between my thighs. The marbled, torn paper from the edge of land: the dream.
Mona and I just met a few months ago in LA and we made this piece from the fragments I’d gathered and archived from searching for radio signs while driving around on an island in the Pacific Northwest, where I was generally looking for a sign, a signal, a symbol, a symptom. Mona’s work siphons from just underfoot and far, far above ground (not even sky); it works through the body in a way that allows you to drop out of time.
Gabriel Jesiolowski is a queer, feminist writer, artist and designer. They work in a research-based practice that uses text, land, the body, installation, print, and video. Their debut collection of poetry, As Burning Leaves, won the Benjamin Saltman Award from Red Hen Press. Their current work deals with accumulation and distribution and trauma/healing. They live and work in Los Angeles.
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Inside, like this:
Deep Space is rather dim, not too dim, not dim enough not to see, but dim enough so as to efface the edges of most things. There is the sound of radio channels in and out of phase: the sound sweeps the edges, all eight corners of the room. Wall and floor of marbling, sloshing video that projects, refracts and seems to soak.
The show is titled after a prose poem excerpted from my most recent project, Entry for Exits.
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entry for it’s heaven, it’s fine
except maybe when she wakes up at five AM, her body long, feet arcing up in a fin – on her stomach, kind of swarming in the light that's starting to enter the room – I say what’s wrong– she shakes a few pill bottles open, turns on the stereo, quivering lungs, I pull her legs toward me, ass up against my lower stomach – the cock is wobbly, not a refined object, barely an extension, Claudia Rankine says that loneliness is what we can’t do for each other – tomorrow there will be another river of traffic, I’ll look at the screen for a sign, any sign of love – I know you say heaven & mean the crossed bows of her sternum, mean the smuggled pollen we shake off our sheets, I know you say heaven & mean a refusal to choose
Saddle stitch bound tall stack of take-away pieces. 5.5" x 8.5" placed on floor.
To download a high-res pdf of this piece, click here.
Don’t Rattle Apart There Are Things that Will Come & Go
Collaboration with Mona Demone.
Eight invisible transducers/sources installed in eight corners.
Will Not Last the NighT
Ink, cut paper.
Netting or a screen. Floating on wall. Installed with fine pins.
Digital collaboration with Darío Ameni.
Video circles throughout the gallery. Is not contained.
Space begets light, which begets sound. In slumbers. Oneiric space. The memory of the sound piece (II.) above is illuminated.
Don’t Stay Home on My Account
Trials & Timelines
This set of accumulating drawings are lined up on a low light table that is centered against the wall of the gallery. Table measures 14.5' x 3'. Drawings are held in place by translucent tape.
New drawings completed and added to gallery during duration of show
RULES: Let fruit rot. Let water vanish from a cup.