#Kade L. Twist

[longlistshort]

Sarah Meyohas, “Interference #19”, 2023, Holograms, mirrored black glass, aluminum

Georgia O’Keeffe, “Poppy”, 1927, Oil on canvas

Francis Picabia “The Church of Montigny, Effect of Sunlight” 1908, Oil on canvas (left); Christian Sampson “Projection Painting”, 2023, Acrylic and films with LED light; and Claude Monet “The Houses of Parliament, Effect of Fog, London” 1904, Oil on canvas (right)

The Nature of Art exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts St. Petersburg merges art from the museum’s collection with loaned works to explore- “art’s crucial role in our evolving quest to understand our relationship with nature and our place in the cosmos”.

One of the benefits of an encyclopedic museum is that visitors have the opportunity to experience art throughout history, and to revisit works that resonate with them. For the section titled Artist as Curator, Sarah Meyohas and Christian Sampson chose pieces from the museum’s collection to pair with their own work.

From the museum-

At first glance, perhaps, these may seem like unusual combinations, but upon deeper contemplation, their selections reveal complementary artistic intents. For instance, Meyohas and Georgia O’Keeffe share an interest in close looking, particularly in finding new ways to examine underappreciated aspects of the natural world. Sampson, influenced by the California Light and Space Movement, is interested in current scholarship that suggests the hazy fog found in Claude Monet’s work is an early depiction of air pollution, offering an entirely new perspective on the artist’s representations of light.

Sampson also created the four-part installation, Tempus volat, hora fugit, on view until 2025 at the museum.

Below are some of the works from additional sections of the exhibition.

Postcommodity, “kinaypikowiyâs”, 2021, Four 30.5-metre industrial debris booms

Postcommodity is an interdisciplinary art collective comprised of Cristóbal Martínez (Genizaro, Manito, Xicano), and Kade L. Twist (Cherokee).

About Postcommodity’s work, kinaypikowiyâs, (seen above) from the museum-

This work is composed of debris booms, used to catch and hold environmental contaminants such as garbage, oil, and chemicals. The colors of the booms correspond to different types of threats— red (flammable), yellow (radioactive), blue (dangerous), and white (poisonous)-in the labeling system for hazardous materials. To indigenous peoples, these are shared medicine colors that carry knowledge, purpose and meaning throughout the Western Hemisphere. Suspended like hung meat, the booms represent a snake that has been chopped into four parts. Each part represents an area of the colonial map of the Western Hemisphere: South America, Central America, North America, and all of the surrounding islands. The title, kinaypikowiyâs, is a Plains Cree word, meaning snake meat. Divided by borders, Postcommodity asserts that all people living in the Americas are riding on the back of this snake.

James Casebere, “Landscape with Houses (Dutchess County, NY), 2009, Archival pigment print mounted to Dibond

James Casebere creates architecturally based models for the large scale photographs seen above.

Duke Riley's Reclaimed ocean plastic sculptures and “Tidal Fool” wallpaper

Duke Riley’s work, which was previously shown at Brooklyn Museum, addresses issues of environmental pollution by using discarded plastics found in the ocean and other waterways to create new work inspired by the past. You can hear him discuss his work in this video.

From the museum-

Inspired by the maritime museum displays he saw while a child growing up in New England, Riley’s scrimshaw series is a cutting observation of capitalist economies-historic and today-that endanger sea life. The sculptures were created for the fictional Poly S. Tyrene Memorial Maritime Museum, and are contemporary versions of sailors’ scrimshaw, or delicately ink-etched whale teeth and bone. Riley first thought about using plastic as an ode to scrimshaw when he saw what he thought was a whale bone washed up on the beach in Rhode Island; it turned out to be the white handle of a deck brush. Riley regularly removes trash from beaches and waterways, and often uses this refuse in his work.

Riley collaborated with Brooklyn-based Flavor Paper to create these two custom wallpapers for his solo exhibition DEATH TO THE LIVING, Long Live Trash at the Brooklyn Museum. Tidal Fool exhibits Riley’s trademark humor in the face of devastating water pollution; notice the Colt 45-guzzling mermaid. Wall Bait vibrantly references Riley’s meticulous fishing lures, which he crafts from refuse found in the waters around New York City.

Daniel Lind-Ramos,"Centinelas de la luna nueva (Sentinels of the New Moon)", 2022-2023, Mixed media

From the museum about this work-

In Centinelas de la luna nueva, he evokes the elders of the mangroves, spiritual beings who watch over and ensure the health of this essential coastal tree. Mangroves are the basis for a complex ecosystem that shelters sea life and serves as the first line of defense in the tropical storms that batter the sub-tropics -including Florida.

Lind-Ramos's practice reflects the vibrant culture of his native Loíza, Puerto Rico, by honoring local agriculture, fishing, cooking, and masquerade. His sculptures also evoke Hurricane Maria (2017), the COVID-19 pandemic, and ongoing environmental degradation. Lind-Ramos is committed to the survival and sustenance of Afro-Taíno traditions and people of the Puerto Rican archipelago. However, his art engages the global community through shared emotions, parallel histories, and the commonality of human experience.

The next post will discuss two other artists in the exhibition, Brookhart Jonquil and Janaina Tschäpe.

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds: Act II- Chapter Sixteen Hassun

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Implied Death, Court Scenes, Lying, a smidge of Jealousy, Desperation, Slight Possessiveness

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY -

 the speaker as MARION VEGA, prosecutor. She has the floor. A smiling assassin.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs, the Minnesota Shrike, killed young women who looked just like his daughter. He killed them and he ate them.” Vega pauses and looks at Will. He sits, shackled, with his attorney LEONARD BRAUER. JUDGE BERTRAND DAVIES straight ahead. An audience in the gallery. No jury. A bailiff stands guard. 

“Will Graham understood how Garret Jacob Hobbs thought, which is how he caught him. Shot Hobbs dead as he cut his daughter's throat. Will Graham and his partner Dr. Y/N L/N saved Abigail Hobbs's life. But this profile he created of her father was so vivid, he couldn't escape it. In an unconscious state, he killed three more young women.” She has a remote for a projector in her hand and she CLICKS it. The LIGHTS DIM. KER-CHUNK -- the lights flicker across Will's face as a slide changes on a screen. SLIDE: CASSIE BOYLE MOUNTED ON ANTLERS.

“Cassie Boyle.” KER-CHUNK -- MARISSA SCHUUR IMPALED ON ANTLERS.

“Marissa Schuur.” KER-CHUNK -- ABIGAIL HOBBS. Will looks down. 

“And Abigail Hobbs. Mr. Graham saved her from her father, but couldn't save her from himself. He killed her and ate her. At the very least, we know he ate her ear.” KER-CHUNK -- a ghastly image of the ear Will threw up.

“What he did with the rest of her is locked away in the recesses of Will Graham's traumatized mind, or so he would have you believe. Something else you should know about Will Graham. He's an eideteker. He has a remarkable visual memory. He is keenly insightful to the human condition and I would argue, the smartest person in this room. Capable of creating a psychological profile of a different kind of killer, one that would become his alibi.” 

COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE COURTROOM - DAY-

JACK CRAWFORD paces, waiting. KADE PRURNELL approaches. “Moment of truth.”

“If I knew what the truth was.” Jack says as he prepares himself to take the stand. “There’s nothing wrong with your instincts.” Prurnell says as she looks him dead in the eyes. “My instincts have not yet arrived at conviction.” Jack says as his head bows towards the sky. “Mine have. With the benefit of no prior involvement and no personal connections to the accused.”

“Meaning, I can't be impartial.” Jack says softly and with slight understanding. 

“Of course you can be impartial. But right now, you're not. You have to believe something. As long as there is reason and evidence to believe. You have reason. You have evidence. Will Graham is playing a game.” Kade Prurnell is certain in her beliefs. The courtroom door opens and Jack turns, expecting to be called. His nerves evident. But it is just a bailiff exiting. Kade softens. “I understand why that would be hard for you to accept.”

“Let’s hear that theory.” Jack says with slight defiance and an unreadable expression, “It is easier to be a man who missed a friend's suffering than it is to be the head of Behavioral Sciences at the FBI who missed a killer standing right in front of him. There's a reason you're a witness for the prosecution, Agent Crawford.” Prurnell says with a cold gaze.  “What reason would that be?” Jack says as he meets her eyes with a cold gaze of his own. 

“If you can't represent your own beliefs, represent the Bureau's. Will Graham lied to the FBI. He lied to you. And you know it.” She holds his arm, reassuring, cheerleading. “Let yourself off the hook, Jack.”

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

Jack is on the stand. Mid-testimony. Vega in front of him, but Jack's eyes are on Will Graham. Will does not look away. There is a female bailiff on duty. I’m directly behind Will, I keep my eyes on Jack. “How did you meet Will Graham?” asks Ms. Vega

“I met him at the opening of the Evil Minds Research Museum. He disagreed with what we called it. He told me the title mythologized banal, cruel men who don't deserve to sound like supervillains.” 

“What was your first impression?”

“He was intelligent. And arrogant. And very likely on the spectrum.”

“Which is why he was never real FBI. He failed the screening procedures.”

“Yes.”

“But you felt he was qualified to work in the field.”

“Under my supervision. And with a Partner.” I look down at my lap with a clenched jaw. 

“You believed he was valuable because he can think like a killer?”

“He can think like anybody. He has pure empathy and projection. He can imprint profiles on the blank slate of his mind for us to read. Its one of the reasons I though Dr. L/N and him would work well together” I smile softly at the thought.

“Sounds like a supervillain. She points to a table in front of the bench. It is laden with marked evidence bags, dozens of them, including five fishhooks, for each of the victims.”

“Five horrendous murders. Over forty different pieces of forensic and physical evidence. That tell us Will Graham knows how to think like a killer because he is one.” Jack looks up at Prurnell and then at Will. Vega presses.

“Rather than being tormented by the work he did, Will Graham enjoyed the cover his role at the FBI gave him to commit his terrible crimes.”  Jack looks at Kade Prurnell. Then Jack looks at Will. “I don't believe that to be true.” Marion Vega is thrown off guard by that.

“Agent Crawford?” For Jack, this is a moment of clarity; he looks at Will, talking to him; committing to what he feels to be true. “Will hated every second of the work. Didn't fake that. He hated it and I kept making him do it.”

“Why then, when you gave him the opportunity to quit, did he refuse?”

“Because he was saving lives. I was warned by more than one person, including his partner Dr. L/N, if I pushed Will, I would break him. I put checks and balances in place, then ignored them. And here we are.” In the gallery, Prurnell looks saddened. She exits. Will stares at Jack on the witness stand, and Leonard Brauer can't hide a smile as he makes a note.

A PADDED ENVELOPE -- MARKED URGENT -- CARRIED BY A PARALEGAL - COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY

Where Will Graham is at the defense table with Brauer. Brauer is late 40s, cocksure and aware of his own abilities. “What does Jack Crawford drink? Because whatever it is, I need to send him a very expensive bottle.” Brauer says with a shiteating grin on his face. “He said I'm a killer because he drove me insane.”

“He paved the road for your defense.”

“He didn't say Will was innocent.” I say as I approach Will and His Lawyer. Brauer shakes his head. A pragmatist. “Innocence isn't a verdict, Dr. L/N. "Not guilty" is. This isn't law, it's advertising.” Brauer says as he looks to me. 

“Advertising trivializes, it manipulates, it's vulgar.” I say for Will. “Boo-hoo. So's the law. We have to create the desire to find you "not guilty," which does not exist in this courtroom. We're manipulating the consumer into buying something they don't need. They don't want your innocence. Unconsciousness in a pretty package, that I can sell.” The paralegal brings the envelope down to Brauer.

“Thank you.” The paralegal turns to leave and Brauer opens the envelope and takes out another envelope. He pulls open the second envelope. Shakes it over his legal pad.

“If I take the moral high ground with you, I'll get you killed.” SLO-MO as flakes of DRIED BLOOD drop like snow onto the pad – WILL GRAHAM -- his face falls -- BACK TO REAL TIME -- a HUMAN EAR drops onto the pad. Gray, spotted with DARK BLOOD around the rough edges of the incision. I gasp loudly and cover my mouth. 

“I think I opened your mail.”

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Hannibal and Y/N stand beside Jack, watching him thoughtfully. Jack absently listens as BEVERLY KATZ, BRIAN ZELLER, JIMMY PRICE work on the ear and the envelopes, reporting their findings. Lips move WITHOUT SOUND until their VOICES SLOWLY FADE IN. “Shrunken capillaries. The ear was cut from a corpse no more than forty-eight hours ago.” Zeller says as he gestures towards the ear.

“Before the trial started.” Bev says. “We fumed it all -- ear's clean, no prints on the envelopes besides the courier, paralegal and the lawyer.” Jimmy says as Hannibal leans over the ear in fascination. “One thing's for sure. Will Graham didn't do it.” I say from next to Hannibal. 

“Although, I wouldn't be surprised.” Zeller says with a distaste for My recently incarcerated Partner. “The timing is deliberate, choreographed to drop the ear at the start of Will's trial.” Jack points out as he ignores the distastful Zeller. “Such a gift has great significance.” Hannibal says as he place a hand on my Lower back, causing my breathing to hitch. 

“A "gift." From who?” Jack asks with a furrow of his brow. “Will claimed someone else committed the crimes he's accused of.” I say,  “He said that someone was Hannibal.” Jack says with a raised brow. “Perhaps he was half right.” Hannibal says as  Jack looks at Him, considers what he is saying. “You gotta be kidding me.”  the angry, impassioned Zeller --

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

...the DOORS OPEN and FREDDIE LOUNDS ENTER. Without ever fully revealing her face, leads her to the witness stand, favoring Will as she makes her way down the aisle. “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth.” Marion Vega questions Freddie Lounds, mid-testimony.

“Would you please describe your relationship with Abigail Hobbs?”

“It was sisterly. We were very close. I was helping her write a book about surviving her father.” 

“Did you ever discuss Will Graham with Abigail?” Did they ever when i spent time with Abigail she’d tell me about her interactions with Freddie Lounds. 

“Yes. She bonded with him after her father's death, even saw him as a father figure. Which he took advantage of until Abigail began to feel threatened by him.”

“Did Will Graham ever threaten you?”

“He told me it wasn't very smart to piss off a man who thought about killing people for a living. I believed him. I was terrified.” Bitch please. I was there, i could feel the cockiness and Arogance, but never fear nor terror. “You spend a lot of time with murderers and their victims. Why were you terrified?”

“Will Graham never struck me as a victim. He was something else.”

“Why was Abigail so afraid of him?”

“Her father killed young women as substitutes for her. She told me she was worried Will Graham wasn't interested in substitutes.” A catch of breath as Freddie's emotions suddenly catch her. What a wonderful Actress she is, able to get even the jury to choke up. I roll my eyes and Will turns around and looks at me then back at the stand. 

“This is all hearsay, your honor.”

“We'd argue excited utterance–”

“I'll allow it.” The judge remarks

“Abigail told me she believed Will Graham was going to kill her and cannibalize her like her father wanted to do. She was right. I should have listened to her.”

“You blame yourself for her death?”

“I blame Will Graham.” Freddie wipes her eyes. STARES Will down. And I almost walk up there and Knock her the fuck out.

“Your witness.” Brauer stands. “Miss Lounds, I've only been recently retained on this case, so forgive me for not having all the details. Can you remind me how many times you've been sued for libel?”

She Hesitates “Six.”

“Six. How many times did you settle?”

“Six.” She sighs her farce fading. “Six. Thank you. Nothing further.”

COURTHOUSE - CORRIDOR - DAY-

Jack Crawford standing in the center l he is blocking Freddie Lounds's path. “You and I spoke at length about Abigail Hobbs. You suspected her of complicity in her father's crimes.” Jack says with anger and suspicion. “I remember our discussion.” she says as she crosses her arms

“Just chose not to mention it.” Jack says with annoyance for the red head. “No one asked.” Freddie looks at Jack, deadly serious now. Real emotion. “Abigail was a frightened girl, who put her trust in Will Graham. And he killed her.”

“Your testimony made her death sound like it was premeditated.”

“Murder, Jack. Her murder.”

“Did that conversation with Abigail Hobbs ever happen?” Freddie stares, then: “You're looking after your friend. I'm looking after mine.”

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Hannibal and Y/N face Will standing on his side of the bars. “It seems you have an admirer.” Hannibal says with a amused smile. 

“You think someone sent me an ear because they admire me?” Will asks confused, I look at him with soft eyes. “The boundaries of what's considered normal are getting narrower. Outside those boundaries, this may be intended as a helpful gesture.” I say to him. I want to reach out a hand but i know the guards would most likely stop me. And Hannibal keeps gracing his hand on my back.

“How far would you go to help me?” Will asks as he turns his head towards Hannibal. “It hadn't occurred to me to send you an ear. But I'm grateful and intrigued that someone has.” Hannibal says and he inconspiculously runs his fingers up and down my spine.

“Gratitude has a short half-life.”

“So can doubt. Our ideas are not set in stone. When exposed to new thoughts, they adapt into their most potent form. I have new thoughts about who you are. There may very well be another killer.” Hannibal says as him and Will lock eyes. 

“I want there to be.” Will says as he looks at me. “Some part of you still suspects me.” Hannibal says as he looks down at me then to Will.  “I don't know what anyone is capable of anymore. Even myself. I know there's no evidence against you.” Will says, i close my eyes and sigh.

“There never was.”

“Accusing you makes me look insane. I'm not insane. Not anymore.”

“You may not be guilty. Tell Us about your admirer, Will.” I ask as i step forward slightly.  “He's experienced. A sophisticated killer. He has a wit and a whimsy. Parodied the crimes We investigated so well We didn't know he was there. He's connected to me somehow. He knows me. Or thinks he does. He certainly knew about the cases.” Will says, i nod in agreement. 

“You could be describing me.” Hannibal says as he steps behind me. “I once thought I was.” Will says as he watches as Hannibals hands grace my shoulders. “This ear you were sent presents an opportunity, Will. If someone else is responsible for your crimes, perhaps he now wants to be seen.” I say, i know the killer is close. You could say they’re right behind me. 

“Why would he want to be seen now?” Will asks confused on this situation put at hand. “He cares what happens to you.” Will Graham holds Hannibal's gaze.

BSHCI - THERAPY HALL - DAY-

Y/N sits in a solitary chair opposite Will Graham locked into his therapy cage. Shafts of sunlight giving the space a cathedral feel. Leonard Brauer paces to one side. “I don't want the first time you do this to be in court. Dr. L/N, weren't you and the accused romantically involved?” I dont blink.

“How is that relevant to the case?” I ask, i really dont want my love life out into the court. “It's relevant to your testimony. In that court, your affections, your pro-anything Will Graham will be on trial. Get all starey and non-blinky like you did and it'll undermine you and me, but mainly him.” Brauer says as he looks at me.

“My testimony is based on my professional–” I say but am cut off  “You're smitten with the accused, Dr. L/N. It's adorable. But not our brand of defense.” Y/N looks caught.

“Marion Vega will smell it on you like you stepped in Young Adult and tracked it into the courtroom. Were you and Will Graham romantically involved?” I look at Will, then at Brauer; this is all so painful. “There was a Blooming relationship between me and Mr. Graham, yes.”

“How was it?” I again can't avoid looking at Will. Then at Brauer. “The advance came from Will. And i initially rejected it.”

“Because he was dangerous?”

“Because he was unstable.”

“What made you change your mind” I look at Will. My eyes say one thing, My words another. I looks at Brauer -- definite. “I don't have romantic feelings for Will Graham Anymore. I have a professional relationship.” That sits in the air. Brauer breaks it. Pleased.  “I like "professional Relationship." It's so... indifferent. Unless you look like you're lying when you say it. And you didnt, which will fool the jury. But we all know…”

“She was lying.” I am looking at Will, the painful truth of this hurts. The fact i have to lie or pretend that i dont Lov- is this what love is? Protecting with no remorse of the others that are affected. All i want is for Will to be Free. so that we can try to move on from this. We save lives together. But there's gonna be a day and age where we wont be the most innocent when it comes to blood shed. Like I even am at all.

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Jack Crawford, Zeller, Price and Katz are gathered around the ear. Looking seriously concerned and energized. “You've identified the ear?” Jack asks who is actively wondering where Y/N is. “We ID'd the knife that cut it off.”  Zeller says with a shrug of the shoulders. 

“It's Will Graham's. The blade matches the cuts on Abigail Hobbs's ear and on this one.” Beverly says as Jimmy Price zooms images of the two ears on a SCREEN.

“It was presenting in court as evidence. And then it went to the courthouse evidence room.” Beverly says. “It was checked out by a bailiff at the courthouse. Andrew Sykes. And it never went back.” Price says as JACK  as certainty grows in him. Energized.

FBI SUV - NIGHT-

Jack sits in the passenger seat of an FBI SUV, looking at a neat tract home, all lights dark. He raises a HANDSET.

“Go.”

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

Shadows move out of shadows as two FBI AGENTS pause on either side of the front door. One nods at the other and he crowbars the lock – As the door FLIES OPEN – A BLUE SPARK A small electrical relay taped to the doorjamb is thrown and we follow the WIRE, taped down the floor and through the hall, into the next room. 

The wire reaches a black shape in the room and FLAME BLOOMS, blue and yellow, beautiful as it quickly spreads. A ROAR and a BURST OF ORANGE LIGHT as flames suddenly surge --

CLOSE -- the blossoming fire as it spreads, reflected up close in a staring EYE...

FBI SUV - BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Sudden glow of fire fills the car window next to Jack's face, reflected, bathing Jack's face in HEAT and LIGHT as the darkness is chased from the windows of the house and FLAMES

can be seen -- Jack bursts from the SUV and the reflection disappears.

CRASH! The house windows shatter outward as the heat and flame inside builds. Jack shields his face as we hear the ROAR and RUSH of the fire --

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

QUIET and a muted stillness -- the calm after the storm. A FIRE CREW is leaving, their job done. The house is still intact, but the windows are gone and the place is smoke-damaged. LOCAL COPS are putting up incident tape and turning it into a crime scene.

The house still SIGHS and GROANS from heat contraction. The interior is dark, eerie shadows thrown by work lanterns. Smoke hangs in the air and water drips. Jack navigates the burned home with a flashlight. His feet splash through gray puddles. Jack turns his flashlight into the lounge and his face tightens in grim horror. In his FLASHLIGHT BEAM we see a horrific tableau -- the CAUTERIZED BODY of the DEAD BAILIFFhas been IMPALED on the rack of a huge STAG'S HEAD.

JACK CRAWFORD -- he stares at the body like it is a personal insult.   SMOKE-BLACKENED FACE Torn into a permanent clown's mask. Burns can't hide what was done to the dead bailiff's face. Right ear missing, Glasgow smile cut into his cheeks. BEVERLY KATZ, up close

to the body --- as she tweezes trace evidence into a bag.

WORK LIGHTS now illuminate the mutilated corpse. His uniform is fused to his charred body. A badge and name tag, "Andrew Sykes," melted into his chest. Brian Zeller taps it with his tweezers. Jimmy Price comes from the front door, walking Jack, Y/N, and Hannibal through.

“Wanted to give us a warm welcome and still leave something to find.” 

“An arresting piece of theater.”  Hannibal says as he runs a gloved hand against the SOOT on the wall. Rubs it in his fingers and smells it. Hannibal approaches the body closely. Jimmy Price steps back to let him take it in. Hannibal slowly walks around the corpse on the stag's head.

“It's Will Graham's greatest hits.” Zeller says and i Glare harshly at him. “Are we addressing the elephant in the room? The charred, mutilated elephant right over there.” Jimmy says as he gestures towards the corpse. “Could we have been that wrong?” Jack asks us. I look at him with empathetic eyes. 

“About Will Graham? No. We couldn't. He practically took a selfie with each of his victims.��� Zeller says and quite frankly im ready to knock him out…….or shoot him in the foot at the very least. Because his very biased opinion on Will Graham is gonna interfere with this investigation.

Hannibal watches the proceedings like a polite dinner guest watching a family argument, but not engaging in it. “The evidence we found was immediate and almost presentational. May as well have been gift-wrapped.” Bev says, she’s uttering the words of me and Will. 

“That's what You and Will said about Cassie Boyle when she was found in that field. "Field kabuki."” Jack says as he faces me. I nod as I try to keep cool. The utter amount of fear, Betrayal and grasping to life the victim had in his last moments was extremely hard to ignore. And Zeller pissing me off does not help in the slightest.

“There wasn't any evidence before Will was apprehended and there hasn't been any since.” I say with narrow eyes towards Zeller. “He ate a girl's ear. It was inside his stomach. God knows how much else of her was in there.” Zeller says as he stands up and leans towards me trying to act all menacing. But all it makes me feel is like he needs a good ass kicking. 

“Should've taken a stool sample.” Jimmy says softly.  “Knock it off.” Jack says to me and Zeller. 

“Tell me, Jack. What impact could this have on Will's trial?” Hannibal says as Jack considers the implications...

COURTHOUSE - DAY-

Jack Crawford and Kade Prurnell stand before the large, ornate desk of Judge Davies as he gets into his robes. “This murder raises serious doubts about the case against Will Graham.”

“Your team provided the evidence.” Judge Davies says with furrowed brows. “The overwhelming evidence.” Prurnell says with narrowed eyes. “Then you understand how significant it is for me to question it.” Jack says with gusto. “We heard your testimony, Agent Crawford. Are you sure you're not trying to assuage your own guilt.” Prurnell asks sarcastically and rudely. “Yes. I'm sure.”

“I'm not.”

“Why is it so important to you that Will Graham be found guilty?”

“I have no agenda here. What is important to me is the truth.”

“Andrew Sykes was mutilated in the exact manner Will Graham allegedly mutilated his victims. In ways that have not been made public.” Jack says as he is looking positive about his findings. “Will Graham isn't saying he didn't kill those people. His lawyer's running an unconsciousness defense. In effect, he's admitting the acts, just not the responsibility.” Prurnell says with large arm gestures

“Will has always maintained his innocence, despite gaps in memory. Whatever Brauer's strategy, this would offer a new line of defense.” Jack says almost Happily. “That's for Mr. Brauer to tell me, Agent Crawford, not you.” Judge Davies says, “Yes, your honor.” 

“If Mr. Brauer does bring up this murder, I will give him leeway to present it in evidence.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Jack risks a glance at Kade Prurnell, who meets his gaze.

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

“...Will Graham manifests publicly as an introverted personality. He would have us believe he places on the spectrum somewhere near Asperger's and autism. Yet, he also claims to have an empathy disorder.” Dr. Chilton is on the stand.

“You choose your words very carefully, Dr. Chilton. You chose the word "claims."”

“Will Graham has never been diagnosed. He won't allow anyone to test him. He has carefully

constructed a persona to hide his real nature from the world. He wears it so well, even Jack

Crawford couldn't see past it.”

“But you did?”

“Mr. Graham and I had no personal relationship for him to manipulate. I have objectively studied him and the crimes of which he is accused. These murders were measured and controlled. The confused man Will Graham presents to the world could not commit those crimes. Because that man is a fiction.”

“You discount the encephalitis he was suffering as a cause?”

“He managed his illness with the help of his neurologist, whom he murdered for his trouble.”

“Is Will Graham an intelligent psychopath?”

“There is not yet a name for whatever Will Graham is. He kills methodically and I believe he would kill again, given the opportunity.”

“Thank you, doctor. Your witness.” Brauer stands up.

“Dr. Chilton, Will Graham spent his time catching murderers for the FBI. You don't see a contradiction between that and the cold-blooded killer you describe?”

“No, I don't. Will Graham is driven by vanity and his own whims. He has a very high opinion of his intelligence. Ergo, he caught the other killers simply to prove he is smarter than all of them, too. Saving lives is just as arousing as ending them. He likes to play God.” Chilton smiles. Certain in his damning testimony.

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Will Graham lies on his bunk. Somewhere off, a demented soul begins screaming in a repetitive wail. A mind in torment. Will stares into the ceiling as the wailing continues, unabated... Will closes his eyes. The cell block lies in darkness. Silence. A SUDDEN hollow CLANG as the bolt slides back in the CELL DOOR. Will Graham's EYES OPEN. Instantly awake. He looks to the cell door, which slowly opens. An invitation.

 BSHCI - CELL BLOCK - NIGHT-

A sound rises -- the hollow CLOP of hooves. Will peers and sees the BLACK STAG, night on night, as it slowly fades into the shadows at the end of the hall. Will follows it into the darkness, past empty cells, toward the end of the cell block where he can now see the GATE stands open. Will peers into the NURSES' STATION. Empty. Will walks toward the open GATE and up the stairs beyond.

“Will?”  Will turns to see Hannibal, amidst the shadows, standing at the door of his cell, pointing him back inside. A KLAXON SOUNDS, harsh in the silent dark. now behind Perspex. He is --

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY-

Hannibal  and Y/N stand outside the doors. Will shackled to the table within. The doors open and Y/N and Hannibal both ENTER. He pulls Y/N a seat then sits and pushes a file across the table to Will.

It slides across the table until it COMES INTO FOCUS. It's a wide shot of the BURNED HOME of Andrew Sykes -- his body on the stag's head in all its glory. Will looks at Hannibal, long and slow. Then he pulls the photo toward him, shackle chains rattling on the table. “My admirer?”

“What do you see?” He begins reading a forensic report and then turns back to the image of the crime scene: A WIDE SHOT of the burned room. Will grabs my Hand and  closes his eyes. I've realized we ground each other in our moments like these. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. I close my eyes as I feel his thumb stroking my hand. 

IN THE DARKNESS OF HIS MIND, A PENDULUM SWINGS. FWUM. The PENDULUM is now outside his head. It swings, wiping away Hannibal. FWUM. And the privacy room PLUNGES INTO DARKNESS. The CRIME SCENE PHOTO FILLS FRAME. Pull up and away from it to reveal Will STANDING IN DARKNESS. HE NOW STANDS IN THE ROOM in the picture, pre-fire/pre-murder. Hiding in shadow. We are --

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

The bailiff ‘Y/N’ enters in her uniform, turning on a light. His Mind is playing tricks on him again, a cruel trick but a trick indeed. She sees Will. She KNOWS Will.

The STAG's HEAD stands in the center of the room. The bailiff looks confused. Before she can speak – “I shoot Mr. Sykes once, collapsing lungs, tearing through his heart's aorta and pulmonary arteries.” Will Graham raises a silenced handgun and SHOOTS the bailiff ‘Y/N’  square in the chest.

“He will die believing we were friends. It is his last thought.”  The bailiff's face falls in shock and blood blooms on the chest of her uniform... Will moves to the dying bailiff and, as she would fall, Will grabs him. LIFTS HER BODILY as Will swings Her, high and hard, down onto the stag's head. RAMP back to NORMAL SPEED as the antlers burst brutally from the bailiff's chest...

“His death isn't personal.” Will's hand, gloved, removes WILL'S POCKET KNIFE from the evidence bag. He stands over the gruesome dead bailiff ‘Y/N’. Will's face knots in effort as he starts to cut, ETCHING a GLASGOW SMILE. “He is merely the ink from which flows my poem.” He stands to reveal he has now cut off the RIGHT EAR. As it drops into an EVIDENCE BAG --“My tribute. This is my design.” Will Graham stares down at his work.

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY -

Will Graham as he looks up from the photographs to Hannibal stroking the back of a hyperventilating Y/N. Her Head buried into the crook of his neck. Obviously coming out of a panic attack. Will looks worried and goes to say something but Hannibal shakes his head. 

“It's not the same killer. He murdered his victim first, then mutilated him. Whether it's me he thinks he's copying or someone else, that's not how we roll.”

“How do you roll?”

“Cassie Boyle's lungs were removed when she was still breathing. Georgia Madchen was burned alive. What I found of Abigail was cut off while her heart was beating.”

“Then this is blunt reproduction?” Hannibal asks as he runs his fingers soothingly up and down Y/N's Spine. “You knew that already.” Will responds as he watches Hannibal's hands on his lover's body. “Would've liked to have been wrong.” Hannibal says as he watches Will’s eyes curiously. 

“Occam's broom. You intentionally ignored facts that refute your argument and hoped nobody noticed.” Will says with a raised brow. “You noticed. I wanted to dispel your doubts once and for all.” Hannibal admits as he strokes Y/N's Hair, “My doubts about what?”

“Me. I want you to believe in the best of me, Will. Just as I believe in the best of you. This crime offered us both reasonable doubt.”

“It offered us a distraction.”

“Maybe this acolyte has given you your path to freedom. Even Jack Crawford is ready to believe, Will.” Hannibal suggests

“It would be a lie.”

“No greater than the lie that binds you here, that claims you are guilty.” That lands on Will. “I must admit to selfish motives. I don't want you to be here.” Hannibal says shamelessly. “I don't want me to be here, either.” Will says as he reaches a hand to stroke Y/Ns arm, (Because that's what he could reach). 

“Then you have a choice. This killer wrote you a poem, Will. Are you going to let his love go to waste?” Hannibal says as he smirks on the inside as he smells the sweet aroma of Y/N’s hair. WILL GRAHAM ponders that choice as he Looks at his lover, His Butterfly --

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY-

Y/N is mid-discussion with Will Graham and Leonard Brauer. “We were heading one direction and now, we are heading another.” Brauer says with an enthusiastic smirk. “You're going to abandon your defense strategy, the entire case you've built... mid-trial.” I say flabbergasted at the current situation. 

“Exciting, isn't it?” Brauer says without a care. “This seems reasonable to you?” I ask completely and utterly once again Flabbergasted. “Not only reasonable, fashionable. There's a killer on the loose, demonstrating all the hallmarks of Will Graham's alleged murders. Somebody out there likes you.” Brauer says as he turns his attention to Will. 

“You suffered an illness whose brutality was matched only by its perversity. This happened to you, Will. We all saw it happen. Me and Hannibal saw the most.” I say as I grasp his hand softly. 

“I didn't see all of it.” Will says as he strokes my hand with his thumb. “I didn't see any of it.” Brauer says as I eye Brauer and decide to remain calm.

“It was cruel. And it was real. Do you think this killer committed the murders you're accused of?” I ask Will seriously, now i dont think this killer committed Will’s ‘Crimes’. But I do think another killer did.  “Don't answer that. Not in front of me. It's inconsequential.” Brauer says as he shook his head. 

“But is it true?” I ask, “You're being awfully high and mighty, Dr. L/N. Adorable, but high and mighty. Very ivory tower. Very reductive. Very far from the point, which is the exoneration of your ‘friend’ Will Graham.” What the actual hell is that supposed to mean. 

“And the point you're trying to make is reasonable doubt.” I say incredulously, “That's a win.” Brauer smirks. “Best you can hope for is mistrial.” I say confused at his motive. “Will Graham's alive. Also a win.”

“You won't be able to plead unconsciousness again.” I say worried about this. I dont want anything bad to happen to Will. I don't know what I would do if something did. “Your fast, triumphant diagnosis of unconsciousness was the best play we had. Now we have a better play. Needless to say, I won't be calling you to take the witness stand.”

“Who's taking the stand in my place?” I ask confused, I’m Will’s partner. What the hell is this fucker on about.

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY -

 Hannibal’s Eyes are straight ahead. As he walks forward – We hear the hollow CLOP of hooves coming closer... Will turns his head and sees only Hannibal in his smart suit as he moves past and toward the witness stand. Stay on Will.

“I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God…” Will turns 

Brauer stands before Hannibal Lecter. “Describe your relationship with Will Graham.”

“I was asked by Jack Crawford to monitor Will's emotional well-being while he consulted on cases. I was never officially his psychiatrist.”

“If you weren't his psychiatrist, what were you?”

.

“I was meant to be another part of Will's stability. I failed him in that.”

“How did you fail?”

“I was unable to determine if Will's condition was due to mental illness or stress from his work at the FBI.” Hannibal looks straight at Will. Holds his gaze. Jack and Y/N are in the gallery. Prurnell to one side of them. “My mistake was never considering his innocence. Until the murder of a bailiff from this courthouse.” Hannibal looks at Will and then at Jack. In the gallery, Prurnell turns to Jack Crawford. Hannibal locks eyes with Will. “How do you know this, Dr. Lecter?”

“I have been asked to consult on the case by Jack Crawford. He wanted a profile of the bailiff's killer.”

“You believe the bailiff's murder was committed by the same person guilty of Will Graham's alleged crimes?”

 Marion Vega stands. “Profiles aren't evidence, they're opinion. This is hearsay.”

“I'll allow it.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

“I believe there are alarming similarities in the crimes.” Hannibal says as he looks at the judge. “Will Graham accused you of the crimes for which he stands trial. And yet, here you are, testifying on his behalf for the defense.”

“Will rightfully couldn't accept these actions as his own. A mind faced with the possibility of committing such deeds finds an alternative reality to believe in.” 

“You don't blame him for that?”

“No. Will Graham is and will always be my friend.” Hannibal holds Will's gaze. “Your witness.”

Vega stands. “Dr. Lecter, what was the cause of death in the bailiff's murder?”

“A bullet to the heart.”

“And Will Graham's victims, alleged victims? Their cause of death?”

“Mutilation.”

“That's different than a bullet.”

“No two crimes of any killer are going to be exactly the same.” Hannibal says as he looks to Y/N, she’s looking at Him. Hoping that he does not damn her lover, Her partner. “Is it common for a killer's mode of operation to be wildly divergent?”

“Not common. Not unheard of either.”

“Your honor, the witness's personal beliefs and biases are driving his conclusions. These are clearly two different killers, two different cases. The prejudicial impact outweighs the probative value.”

“There is sufficient similarity to consider this defense on the issue.” Brauer says as he stands. 

“I'm ruling this defense inadmissable, Mr. Brauer. All previous testimony on the matter will be stricken from the record.” Judge Davies says. “Thank you, your honor.” Jack, Y/N react to the finality of the judge's statement. Hannibal glances at Will, an apology, then averts his eyes.

COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY - MORNING-

JANITOR pushing a motorized circular floor scrubber down the hall. He wears headphones and tinny ROCK MUSIC can be heard. He stops at the doors to our courtroom. Pushes them open and FLICKS ON THE LIGHTS. They illuminate the room and the janitor GASPS! 

Where the mighty seal once adorned the wall behind the bench, a terrible sight now is revealed. Judge Davies -- MUTILATED, hanging suspended from the hook that once held up the heavy plaque. His arms out sideways in a Christlike pose, supported by a wooden rod. He has been made into the iconic statue of Justice -- the top of his head is missing and bandages cover his eyes. He is holding a set of scales in one hand. 

Judge Davies’s BRAIN sits in one scale, his HEART in the other. The janitor stands, stunned, the tinny music still rapping a beat against his ears…

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

A CRIME SCENE in progress. Katz, Price and Zeller are processing the dead judge, Jack observing.  Hannibal  and Y/N are walking down the aisle, awestruck by the tableau. “Not only is justice blind, it is mindless and heartless.” Hannibal says as he looks ahead, I nod my head “No kidding” I say as I gaze at the macabre beauty of the literal metaphor of the image before me. 

“Judge was killed in his chambers, then hauled out here for display.” Jack says as he approaches me and Hannibal. “How did the killer get so close?” Hannibal asks. “There was no signs of a struggle. Mutilation was postmortem.” Bev says as she points it out. 

“He was shot in the chest just like the bailiff. Can't find the entry wound because he removed the heart.” Zeller says from beside the body. “But there's an exit wound. No slug. Must have took it with him.” Jimmy says smiling like he almost always is. “A trophy.” I say as  Jack averts his eyes from the death tableau. He speaks privately to Hannibal and I:

“I didn't know how much I wanted this to end, until it didn't. No verdict. No ending. It starts over. Right from the beginning. Like the trial never happened. Why?” Jack asks us, the psychiatrists. 

“Psychopathic violence is predominantly goal-oriented, a means to a very particular end.” Hannibal says and i nod in agreement. “The killer wanted a mistrial?” Jack asks with furrowed brows. 

“It's an elegant, if rather unorthodox, solution.” I say with a straight face and honestly im quite satisfied with the result because I now have more time to prove Will’s Innocence. “To what?” Jack asks me and Hannibal. 

“He spared Will a guilty verdict and, for the moment, spared Will's life.”  I say calmly and I feel shivers up my spine as Hannibal’s Hand grazes my lower back. “Is this the same killer? Or is Will still on trial in your mind?” Jack asks Hannibal, “I feel like St. Peter, denying Will a third time. Like you, I fear my hopes about him were wrong. I don't think it's the same killer.” Hannibal says as He looks past him and Jack turns to see Kade Prurnell in the doorway to the court. Taking in the terrible sight.

“Excuse me.” Jack leaves Hannibal and me and goes  to join her in the doorway to the court. They are silhouetted in the doorframe, as the crime scene work continues behind them.

BAU - FORENSICS LAB - DAY-

A WEB PAGE clicks up on screen. "Murda-bilia." It is a website dealing in murder memorabilia -- killers' signatures, former belongings, etc.: amateurish paintings, handwritten notes, creepy vials, that sort of thing. Jimmy Price turns away from the screen to reveal Jack, Y/N and Hannibal with Zeller and Katz.

“You want a signed Gacy painting, this is the guy who'll get you it. Name's Jonathan Mullion. I went through all of the bailiff's email traffic. Three messages he replied to were using a nym server which furnishes an untraceable address.” Jimmy says with a amused smile.

“Belonging to this guy Mullion.” Jack says as Beverly Katz looks at Jack, Hannibal, and Y/N. “We found an old partial print in Sykes's house. Not enough points to stand up in court, but it came back to Mullion. He was arrested for breaking into a murder scene and stealing artifacts.” Bev says as Zeller points to a report.

“Look at the date, Jack.” Zeller says as Jack looks at the report. His face falls. “Mullion was arrested in Florida. Same day Cassie Boyle was killed. There's no way he was in Minnesota.”

“Will Graham was in Minnesota.” Zeller says and i scoff, “Me and Hannibal were also in Minnesota when Cassie Boyle was murdered. But i don't see anyone throwing accusations at us.” I say angrily at Zeller. Jack looks at Hannibal. Saddened. “We got an address?”

MULLION'S APARTMENT - NIGHT-

A weird, dim single-room-occupancy apartment. We SLOWLY PAN over the walls and see strange outsider art- type stuff, amateurish paintings, handwritten notes, creepy vials; it’s serial killer memorabilia. A desk sits amid the clutter. A green glow from the laptop that sits above it. The SCREEN SAVER winks: "JUST SAYING HI TO THE FBI." Take in the crumpled paper on the desktop.

 Y/N, Hannibal, Zeller, Price and Katz are now in the room. Zeller, Price and Katz are

cataloging evidence. Beverly hands Jack a bound book. He opens it. Monograph on Time of Death by Insect Activity, by Will Graham. It is signed by the author. Jack sighs deeply. Hannibal stands over the laptop. Looks at the message winking on there.

“Poor Will. I fear his new friend has condemned him.” Hannibal moves away from the laptop. Just like that, as if by magic, a pair of folded EYEGLASSES sits by the laptop. Hannibal walks to the foreground as, behind him, we hear --

“Are these the judge's eyeglasses?”

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY -

A shaft of light. Will's hand wafts through it, turns as if to catch the light. Y/N sits opposite him. “I was hoping a verdict would've Helped. I can't exactly blame your lawyer.”

“Faith in any sort of legal justice has never been any more comforting than a nightlight.” Will says as he gazes Lovingly at me.“There are so many miscarriages of justice when it comes to identifying psychopaths. You could have easily been misdiagnosed.” I say as I bring my chair next to him rather than opposite of him. I’m tired of being away from him. “I've already been misdiagnosed.”

“Not by the court.”

“Not yet.”

“How are you feeling, Will?” I ask as I brush his hair out of his face with my fingers.

“I'm numb except for dreading the loss of numbness. I walked out of that courtroom and I could hear my blood like a hollow drumming of wings. I had the absurd feeling whoever this killer is, he walked out of that courtroom with me.” Will says as he places a hand on my thigh. “He didn't.” 

“He's going to reach out to me.”

“What does he want?”

“He wants to know me. What do you want?” He strokes my Thigh softly. She considers the question before answering simply: “I want you.” I say softly as i look him in the eyes as a single tear falls.

[alexandrakim]

Postcommodity

“Postcommodity is an interdisciplinary arts collective comprised of Cristóbal Martínez, and Kade L. Twist. Postcommodity’s art functions as a shared Indigenous lens and voice to engage the assaultive manifestations of the global market and its supporting institutions, public perceptions, beliefs, and individual actions that comprise the ever-expanding, multinational, multiracial and multiethnic colonizing force that is defining the 21st Century through ever increasing velocities and complex forms of violence. Postcommodity works to forge new metaphors capable of rationalizing our shared experiences within this increasingly challenging contemporary environment; promote a constructive discourse that challenges the social, political and economic processes that are destabilizing communities and geographies; and connect Indigenous narratives of cultural self-determination with the broader public sphere.“

[hungrymimigarfield]

Postcommodity (Week 12)

Postcommodity, is a group of two Indigenous interdisciplinary artists called Cristóbal Martínez and Kade L. Twist. Their goal is quote to: "function as a shared Indigenous lens and voice to engage the assaultive manifestations of the global market and its supporting institutions, public perceptions, beliefs, and individual actions that comprise the ever-expanding, multinational, multiracial and multiethnic colonizing force that is defining the 21st Century through ever increasing velocities and complex forms of violence.” Their work reminds me a lot of Afrofuturism and Afrofuturistic artists, in the way how they depict art through the black lens whereas Postcommodity is doing it through their cultural lens. Postcommodity uses mediums like sound and video however they place their own unique twist on it as they use sounds and videos that are more modern technology like ASMR instead of what would be considered as “commodity” videos and sounds. The works I find most interesting by them would be when they utilize the space, building or the architecture as a medium and install speakers into them which is an interesting way is thinking how to use the space and if space itself can be essential or the key component of the art itself.

[btsqualityy]

Piece of Peace

Kaiden (Jin’s son) x Ava (Jungkook’s daughter)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Yeah, birthdays don’t stop me from posting lol. So this is one part of a triad of drabbles focusing on the future relationships between some of the toddlers from the Toddler Series. In this part, Kaiden and Ava are both 17 years old. I hope you enjoy it!

Ava tapped rapidly on the front door and then bit her lip in agitation as she waited for someone to come open it.

“Hello?” Jin said as he pulled the door open, a smile appearing on his face when he saw that it was his niece. “Ava, hi!”

“Hi uncle Jin,” Ava replied, putting on a small fake smile to greet her uncle. 

“Come in, come in,” Jin gestured into the house behind him and Ava nodded before stepping forward and walking inside. “I didn’t know that you were coming over today. Kade usually tells us beforehand.”

“He doesn’t know,” Ava clarified. “It was a kind of spur of the moment thing.”

“Ah,” Jin nodded. “Well, he’s up in his room so you can go on up.”

“Thanks uncle Jin,” Ava nodded one last time before turning and heading up the stairs to Kaiden’s room. She immediately walked down the hall to the third door on the left and then knocked softly.

“Come in,” Kaiden said and she twisted the knob on the door, pushing it open and poking her head inside.

“Hey,” she whispered and Kaiden looked up from the homework on his desk, a wide smile appearing on his face at the sight of his girlfriend.

“Ave, hi,” He greeted, waving his hand at her for her to come in. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her before walking over to where he was sitting. “What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna chill at home today.”

“I told him, my dad,” Ava blurted out and Kaiden’s eyes widened as he instantly realized what she meant.

“And?”

“He reacted just the way I knew he would,” Ava grumbled as tears started to cloud her vision. Kaiden immediately reached up and wiped her eyes, and she leaned into his hand. 

“Here, come sit down and talk to me,” Kaiden instructed as he stood up from his chair, grabbing her hand and leading her over to his bed. He sat down first and then pulled her down next to him, wrapping one of his arms around her waist while holding her hand with his other. 

“So, I went home and told my dad that I needed to talk to him and my mom too,” Ava started, feeling comfortable enough with Kaiden to not even have to wait for his go ahead. “I started the way that you had suggested, by explaining to them how much I want to become a trainee and how that’s the only thing that I can see myself doing.”

“And what did uncle Kook say?” Kaiden asked.

“He instantly said no. It was like he didn’t even hear anything that I said Kade.”

“And what did you say after that?”

“Well, he went into this whole tangent of how hard him and your dad and our uncles had it and how he doesn’t want that to happen to me,” Ava answered. “After that, I might’ve told him that he was being an irrational dictator.”

“Ava,” Kaiden deadpanned and Ava pouted lightly as she let her shoulders slump.

“Well, he was!” She retorted lamely.

“And you had to tell him that, to his face?”

“Of course I did,” she shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well that explains why he won’t listen to you or take you seriously,” Kaiden pointed out. “When you fly off the handle like that, it only gives him more reasons to treat you like a child.”

“I didn’t ‘fly off the handle’,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “I’m just passionate. Everyone who knows me, knows how much I wanna perform and become an idol so why can’t he see that?” 

“He only wants the best for you, you know that.”

“Keeping me from pursuing my dream isn’t what’s best for me,” she huffed, yanking her hand out of Kaiden’s and crossing her arms over her chest. Kaiden chuckled and set his chin on her shoulder, looking up at her.

“Are you mad at me now too?” He wondered.

“Yeah, because you’re agreeing with him and taking his side,” she whined childishly.

“I’m not agreeing with him or taking his side, I’m just trying to give you some perspective on the situation,” Kaiden explained. “Which is something you lose when you become all irrational like this.”

“I’m not being irrational,” she snapped and Kaiden raised his eyebrows at her tone of voice. “Ok, maybe I am,” she admitted. “But I can’t help it. This is my dream and he’s ruining it by pulling it further and further away from me.”

“Ave,” Kaiden called as he gently grabbed his chin in his hand, turning it so that she was looking at him. “The only person who has the ability to ruin your dream is you. If you really want it, you’ll get there eventually.”

“But how? I’m only 17, so my parents would have to sign off on me becoming a trainee,” she said.

“Then you wait another year until you’re 18 and then take the first chance you get.”

“But I don’t wanna wait,” she whined, making Kaiden laugh. 

“If you can’t wait seven months, how the hell are you gonna survive a trainee period?”

“Bold of you to assume that I’m gonna be a trainee for a long time,” she responded confidently.

“Touche,” he nodded as they both laughed.

“Thank you Kade,” Ava said when they both managed to calm down. “I really appreciate you for dealing with me.”

“Hey, you’re my girlfriend. I’m supposed to do that,” he shrugged. Ava leaned down and pressed a soft and quick kiss to Kaiden’s lips.

“What was that for?” Kaiden asked, a light blush appearing on his cheeks.

“I’m your girlfriend, I’m supposed to do that,” she replied with a smile and Kaiden playfully rolled his eyes.

“How about another one then?” He smirked and Ava wordlessly leaned over, pressing her lips against his in a firm kiss.

“Hey Ava,” Jin said as he opened the door to Kaiden’s room and both Kaiden and Ava jumped apart at the sudden intrusion. “Oh, sorry,” Jin apologized.

“It’s ok dad,” Kaiden mumbled.

“Ava, your dad called and said that he wants you to come home now,” Jin said.

“Ok, thank you uncle Jin,” Ava nodded and Jin did the same before backing out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Well, guess it’s time for me to go bite the bullet and talk to him,” Ava sighed heavily as she stood up from Kaiden’s bed. “Come on.”

“What? Why do I have to go?” He asked as he stood up as well.

“I need a ride back to my house.”

“You didn’t drive your car over here?” Kaiden wondered as he walked over to his desk and grabbed his car keys.

“My dad bought that car. You really thought I was gonna be able to get in it while I was that upset at him?”

“And what was that you said about not being irrational?” Kaiden smirked, yelling loudly when Ava pinched his arm.

“Stop being a dick and take me home please,” she snorted

“You’re lucky I love you, you brat,” Kaiden said as he grabbed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers before leading her out of his bedroom.

[fruitlcss]

it wasn’t as if blue didn’t  T R U S T  kade. quite the contrary, he was probably the man the omega trusted most in the world. a lifetime of history between them had prepared him for all of the alpha’s nuances and quirk before they’d even become entangled. still, now that they had, things felt different. it was something about knowing he’d shared every intimacy he could with a person that turned things on their head; made his insides turn and twist in unpleasantly giddy ways at the thought of getting the other alone again. 

it wasn’t a date. or at least, they weren’t  C A L L I N G  it that. and he knew better than to assume that sharing a heat meant their connection was romantic -- but god. he could have sworn the other was asking for it. not in words, but in gestures and time spent hovered together. it had drawn him to a startling revelation at 4am the night prior; waking in a sweat from the kind of nightmares he thought he’d chased at nineteen, yearing for the other’s soft words and embrace. it was there, wrapped in sheets that could hardly compare to an alpha’s warmth, that blue realized he  W A N T E D  a romance of sorts. how disgusting. 

and so the morning had risen rose-hued and anxious; butterflies in his stomach for every second between the moment and their meeting. none of it enough to win over his nature, though. “ you’re late. ” the words were sharp, but only playfully so. he hadn’t really been keeping time as he waited for kade to arrive on his doorstep. it was simply more fun to make him sweat.

@littleteto​

[sfaioffical]

Postcommodity, a collective comprised of Kade L. Twist and SFAI Art + Technology  Chair Cristóbal Martínez, has been awarded the 2018 Carnegie International Fine Prize! 

Founded in 1896, Carnegie International is the second-oldest Contemporary Art exhibition in the world and has made Pittsburgh a hub for the contemporary art scene and artists alike. It takes place at the Carnegie Museum of Art every 3-5 years, and includes works from prominent current contemporary artists and collectives. This year, the indigenous collective Postcommodity contributed an enormous installation made of coal, white glass, and rusted steel harvested from local factories and mines entitled From Smoke and Tangled Waters We Carried Fire Home. 

The piece consumes the first floor of CMoA’s Hall of Sculpture, commanding the viewer’s attention on the industrial landscape of Pittsburgh. Shards of glass, coal, and industrial steel are organized in patterns reminiscent of indigenous sand paintings, connecting Postcommodity directly to the marginalized labor force upon which Pittsburgh’s steel industry was built. Pointedly referring to the history of colonized peoples whose labor was used to build the individual wealth that later funds art institutions such as the Carnegie Museum of Art.

According to Martínez, this work aims to rectify the romanization of these narratives by reincorporating the complexity of its colonial past. From Smoke and Tangled Waters We Carried Fire Home brings to life the story of black labor unions born from these shards and empowered through music; a poetic take on a difficult history. Keeping in tune with the contemporary use of the space, jazz musicians will draw from the piece in their scores expanding the viewer’s experience from one that is merely visual to one that is environmental. During its lifetime at Carnegie, the piece will become a new foundation to rebuild this historical fantasy of an industrial America. 

In addition to the major accomplishment of winning the globally-recognized Fine Prize, Postcommodity provided SFAI students with the opportunity to participate in Carnegie International. Their interactive work will be shown in November at CMoA’s University Night with Postcommodity. Cristóbal Martínez and Kade Twist of Postcommodity will speak about their work, and the challenges of communicating complex stories through visual language. Doors will be open to university students, faculty and staff. 

Images: (1-2) Postcommodity, Through Smoke and Tangled Waters We Carried Fire Home, 2018. Installation photos courtesy of Carnegie International. (3) Cristóbal Martínez installing Through Smoke and Tangled Waters We Carried Fire Home at Carnegie Museum of Art, 2018. Photo courtesy of Carnegie International. 

[zoevdigitlmedia]

Blog Post No. 11, 5/2/21

Postcommodity is a collective of artists. The members are Cristóbal Martinez and Kade L. Twist. The main focus of their art is to challenge the political, social, and economic standards of US society, raise political awareness, as well as incorporate Indigenous culture into their art. One of their most famous installations was “Repellent Fence” (2015). This was installed near Douglas, Arizona, and was meant to resemble the border. There were 26 balloons set up in an array, all raised high into the air with the use of helium. The colors of the balloon were chosen to resemble an unsuccessful bird repellent of the past, which is an allusion to the way the US government cannot “repel” immigrants no matter how hard they try, and to emphasize the strong will and determination of immigrants just trying to begin a new life for themselves. The color of the balloons also are the colors often associated with Indigenous medicine and iconography. This piece was also meant to act as a communicator between Indigenous, American, and Mexican governments in order to be more vocal about ho terrible the immigration process is in the US and to attempt to open up a conversation about ways in which to drastically improve the process. The goal is to make it safer, healthier,  more appropriate, and humane, rather than the appalling system that is in place now.

https://youtu.be/SZBNqwNMkQE

When watching the videos of “Repellent Fence” being installed, I was moved to see the cooperation of not only the artists themselves, but also individuals and communities in the area. There is something so powerful about the way these balloons stand so tall and so vibrantly in this desolate area. They are calming and peaceful to look at, but they scream out intense meaning and awareness. The way Postcommodity portrays these extremely important messages through their installations that can be seen from a distance or by anyone passing by is so powerful. Postcommodity are the kinds of artists the world needs in order to speak the truths of those who are underrepresented in both media and our society, and induce change through art. 

[thegrimllama]

lenasdayoff pt 12 -  1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13

Alex Danvers was the complete opposite of her sister, Lena mused as she watched the DEO agent glance around the coffee shop, eyes scanning quickly past each of the patrons.  Lena waved, nudging the mug towards the second chair at her table.  

It was the first time she’d actively sought out Alex, going as far as asking Kara to pass along her phone number, so that Alex had the freedom to contact Lena when she was comfortable with the idea.  Honestly Lena was terrified that she’d overstepped, spending the entire evening prior working up the courage to ask Kara to bridge the communication gap.  

Kara had laughed and tossed a pillow across the couch, (“That’s what’s been worrying you?  Contacting my sister?”) and promptly sending the text.  The reply was quick, what the fuck Luthor? gracing her phone screen from an unknown number.  If Kara felt left out of the brusque exchange, she certainly didn’t show it, and Lena found herself wondering why the hell her best friend had that dorky grin on her face for the rest of the night.  She’d certainly enjoyed wiping that expression off Kara’s face a few hours later.   

***

 “Efficient as ever, Luthor.  How’d you guess my order?”

Lena chuckled, and sipped her cappuccino, Alex’s phone and keys landing on the table with a clatter.  “I have some sway with your sister…”

Lena’s eyes widened as Alex clenched her eyes shut and shook her head, as though ridding herself from Lena’s words, “Please never refer to that again and I will give you anything you ask, within reason.”

Blood rushed to Lena’s cheeks, embarrassment at Alex misinterpreting her, at her complete lack of tact.  Usually she was more composed, but she was having coffee with Alex Danvers, without the presence of Kara or Maggie as a buffer.  “I’m so sorry.  That was unintentional.  I just meant… I was freaking out and texted Kara and she told me you usual order.”  

Alex laughed, her face tilted towards the ceiling.  “What is going on there....?  Wait, you’re not here to ask me if you can date her are you…?”

Lena rolled her eyes, “Alex, we’ve been over this… Kara and I are just friends… Best friends.”

 “Hmm, okay.  But you know, normal friendships don’t involve weekends full of italian food and sex,” Alex deadpanned, she fixed Lena with an odd expression, her head tilting slightly.  It reminded Lena of the times Alex turned interrogation mode on during game night, and it was slightly unnerving to be on the receiving end of it.

 “Well, most friendships are lacking our ability to compartmentalise needs and wants,” Lena needed to take back the conversation before Alex twisted the topic again, “But I didn’t ask you here to discuss your sister’s ability to turn me into a quivering mess…”  

Alex let out a disgusted squawk, tossing her napkin across the table, “Gross!”

Lena caught the napkin, chuckling as she reached into her bag, pulling out the small carry case.  There was no use beating around the bush for this discussion.  She didn’t have time to go through most of these files on their own, so she needed to outsource.  And there was only a select few that she could trust with this.  

Alex’s eyes flicked to the case being pushed toward her across the table, a question forming on her lips, but faltering as Lena shook her head and began to speak.  Alex knew Lena had been in Metropolis, she’d heard nothing but complaints from Kara about it.  Heck, Kara even spent the Tuesday night curled up on Alex and Maggie’s couch, citing boredom.  Of course Maggie thought that was hilarious and the jokes were still being made about Kara’s attention span.

Alex assumed it was a business trip.  L-Corp finalising a merger or looking into another takeover.  But in truth, it was a personal visit.  

It had been almost three days since Lena did a walk through of Luthor Manor, just outside Metropolis.  She’d planned on turning the property into an orphanage, because who else would need a house with twenty enormous bedrooms, bathrooms and acreage?

She left those details out, instead just telling Alex that she visited the manor, and wanted to go over all of Lex’s nooks and hiding places, just in case.  

Alex hardened at the sound of Lex’s name, her back straightened, coffee mug back on the table, clearly forgotten, “You found something.”

It wasn’t a question.  Alex was smart enough to know that Lena wouldn’t trust anyone else with Lex’s belongings.  The only person with more to lose than Lena, was Alex, not counting Kara herself.  

In her search, she’d happened upon two external hard drives, one tucked away in a false drawer bottom, locked with a biometric scanner, similar to the one at Lex’s base and the second, haphazardly tossed beneath the floorboard under the bed in the room once occupied by Lex.  Honestly, after seeing the contents of that particular one, Lena would never be able look Lex in the eye again, nor Kara’s cousin, for that matter.  

But the first hard drive, 4 terabytes on Krypton.  Everything from it’s location in relation to Earth, to the language and customs.  Lena had saved some of the information, eager to learn more about the place where her best friend grew up.

 “I did, and I need your help.”

 “Lena, what is this…?” Alex asked, flipping the drive over in her hands.  Lena could almost see Alex working to figure out what could possibly have Lena so worked up.

Lena casually glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot, it wouldn’t do for some of that information to become public.  “It’s probably duplicates of the information Lex originally collated, but you might as well double check.  Maybe have Winn run his scanner.  I just…. Worry.”

Alex smiled, “I know, me too.”  She slipped the case into the bag by her side, “You’ve looked?”

Lena nodded, “Of course.  I saved some of the information regarding the language and numeric systems to my personal server, the one Winn has been trying to crack for the last two weeks...”

Alex snorted, “I told him you weren’t stupid.  He still thinks you have no idea.  Are you planning on learning Kryptonese?”  

Lena suddenly felt her age, glancing at the table instead of meeting Alex’s gaze, “Is that… Do you think Kara would mind…?”

 “Are you kidding me..?”  Lena looked up, Alex staring incredulously across the table.  She reached a hand across, latching gently onto Lena’s wrist.  “You’re planning to learn her native language for her?”

 “She deserves it.  I couldn’t imagine losing what she has.”  Lena flipped her hand over, thankful that Alex made the first move to join their hands.  “I have the opportunity to give her something back for the unwavering friendship that she’s given me since we met.  Not once has Kara ever asked for anything in return…”

Lena tapered off, she was almost embarrassed that she was divulging this information to Alex.  These were feelings that she’d had tucked away, fueling every little deed, every gift, every accommodation she’d made for Kara.  Kara has given so much, not just to Lena, but to National City and Lena had the means to give back.  

 “Lena, you… I have something that might help.  Give me a few days to sweet talk Winn into making a duplicate and I’ll get it to you.  It is probably the next best thing to having Kara there teaching you.”

***

Lena had been in the lab every day for the last three weeks, working to perfect some new industrial polymer that she’d helped one of the L-Corp interns tweak.  On more than one occasion, Ka… Supergirl had swooped into the lab on the 35th floor to find Lena and Kade neck deep in equations and molecular models.  

The first night it had happened, Kara hadn’t heard from Lena since lunch, she knew that Lena’s lab inspection blocks were set after lunch, so she didn’t think much of it, at least until Lena missed two calls.  Missed calls were exactly the incentive Kara needed to realise that something in the lab had sparked that fervent need that Lena often felt when she saw a promising project.  Of course, Lena’s office was the only entry point available to Kara, after noticing the lights on the 35th floor.  She had to use the biometric lock that Lena had installed on the outside of the balcony to let herself in, because she knew that Kara Danvers or not, Security wouldn’t let her anywhere near the labs.  

Using Lena’s elevator, the superhero made her way to the labs.  The glaring red Research in Progress light was lit above the fourth door on the right, Kara assumed correctly that it was locked, so she used her x-ray vision to not that she was in fact the only one besides Lena and one other, on the floor.  She pressed her hand onto the gel plate, and waited until the light flicked green, unlocking the lab with a hiss.  

Lena was huddled over a microscope with pipette in one hand, her hair falling from the bun it had been restrained in at lunchtime.  The young person beside Lena, was openly gaping at Ka…  

 “Supergirl!” they squeaked out.  Lena looked back at the intern, before following their confused gaze to the entryway.  Kara waved awkwardly, Lena’s confusion turned to recognition and ended in a swift slap to her forehead, “I missed dinner…”

 Kara nodded back towards the intern, who was still looking like Kara was about to arrest Lena on the spot.  

 “Oh, right… Kade… this is Supergirl.  Supergirl, this is Kade, one of L-Corps brightest interns.  They’re completely trustworthy.  We may have gotten slightly carried away.”

Kara held out her hand to the intern, “Nice to meet you Kade, have either of you eaten since lunch?  Because it’s pushing eight o’clock…”

Lena reached into her pocket and glanced at her phone… “You called twice?”

 “Yeah, I had to sneak in via the office.  So if you two wanna keep going, you could crack the window and have fresh pizza, or you could call it a night… Honestly, considering us three, four security guards on ground floor and thirty-two…? Janitors… Should I count the unborn baby with the janitors or…?”

 “Supergirl, please.  Kade, are you ready to finish up here?  I’ll set a three hour block after my afternoon meetings to help you with your project, if you’d like?”

The intern nodded, their dark eyes shining with gratitude, “Thank you so much Miss Luthor....”

 “I told you to call me Lena.  You are going to change the construction industry, Kade Daniels.  I’ll let Doctor Morretz know that you’ll be continuing on independently, and added to R & D payroll.”  

Lena helped Kade pack up their project, small talk about the proposed applications of the polymer, giving Kara the opportunity to surprise Kade with her complex knowledge of chemical composition.  

 “I was surprised too, Kade.  I was expecting all brawn, but she’s got a brain beneath all that blonde.”

Kade laughed and packed their bag, “Thank you, Lena.  I don’t think I could’ve cracked that last part.”

 “I’ll see you tomorrow.  Come in a little later to cover your overtime tonight.”

***

Fast forward three weeks, the closest thing Lena’s seen to a day off in a while being the few days she spent going over the Luthor holdings in Metropolis and working with various building and safety companies regarding the repurposing of Luthor Manor.  

She’d returned late on Thursday, Kara collecting her from the airport and catching an uber back to Kara’s apartment.  Lena was adamant, no matter Kara’s argument that she’d already spent too much time away from L-Corp.

Unfortunately for Lena, she was weak when it came to Kara’s abs, a fact that Kara had recently begun using to her own advantage, meaning Lena agreed to Saturday and Sunday’s schedules being rearranged.  

***

Saturday morning found Kara seated atop the island in Lena’s kitchen, dressed in naught but her underwear, while Lena brewed coffee in what looked like the most complicated coffee machine Kara had ever seen.  Friday had been a rough day for Supergirl, with several call outs that still had her slightly on edge and wishing that she could just turn off her damn Super senses for one day.  

Curiously enough, she noticed a familiar heartbeat make its way into the hallway, so in a burst of speed she was covered in a robe and standing by the front door.  

 “Alex!” she said opening the door, fighting the blush that was quickly engulfing her features.  It was one thing for Alex to know that she and Lena had an… arrangement… but it was another completely, for Alex to see Kara half naked in Lena’s apartment at seven on a Saturday morning.

Alex quickly looked up at the ceiling, clearly seconding Kara’s thoughts.  “I’d apologise for turning up this early but it seems like there’s no need, do I smell coffee…?”

Kara barely processed Alex walk past until she heard Alex’s “Seriously?” from the kitchen, reminding Kara that Lena had still been half naked in the kitchen.

 “Good morning, Alex,” Lena said, somehow keeping her cool much better than Kara was.  “Coffee?”

 “Uh… I’ve gotta get to the DEO, but thanks...:”

Lena rolled her eyes and pulled a travel mug from the top cabinet.  Kara watched Alex’s eyes widen before she turned away completely giving Kara an awkward thumbs up.  “What can we do for you this morning, Alex?”

Kara still hadn’t spoken, but slowly collected herself and rushed into the room to grab another robe for Lena.  

Alex was still glancing out of the glass panel wall, “I have the thing… the one I was telling you about yesterday.”  Kara watched Lena shrug into the robe and hand Alex the travel mug, before tapping the lead lined briefcase.  

 “I will take good care of it.  I’m fairly certain that it won’t take me long,” she said quietly, glancing over at Kara.  

 “Anyway.  Lena, it was great to see you… Uh… You too, Kara.  But I need to get the hell out of here.  This is more information than I needed.”

Kara snorted, “Maybe you’ll keep that in mind next time you and Maggie get carried away while I’m in earshot.  See you tomorrow night?”

Alex laughed, “Yeah, I’m expecting you there too, Lena.  Eliza has been nagging me to set that up.”

Kara and Lena’s simultaneous yell of, “What!?” was drowned out but the sound of the hallway door clicking shut.    

It took them a moment before either reacted, Kara stressing about Lena’s reaction, Lena stressing about the whole situation.  Their eyes met, setting off the manic laughter that usually came along with trying to process an awkward occurrence.  

 “You’re meeting my mom…” Kara wheezed, resting an arm across Lena’s shoulder and pulling her in.

Lena nodded into Kara’s neck, “At least she’s not a genocidal maniac?”  They laughed for a few more minutes, until another knock sounded at the door, “I ordered from Marcos.  Kelly will lose it if you answer my door in a robe.  And don’t you think enough people have been scarred this morning?”

Kara rolled her eyes, “Believe me, there was little to no scarring on Alex’s part.  My sister checked out your ass.  I had to see that.”

 “Possessive?”

Kara rushed to the door before answering, “Hungry.”

***

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[instapicsil1]

This Friday!—Postcommodity’s Cristóbal Martínez and Kade L. Twist join us in conversation—on the occasion of their new site-specific installation on the Bluhm Family Terrace, "With Each Incentive." . Free with museum admission. Link in profile for more information. https://ift.tt/2Yl8A2B

[instatrack]

This Friday!—Postcommodity’s Cristóbal Martínez and Kade L. Twist join us in conversation—on the occasion of their new site-specific installation on the Bluhm Family Terrace, "With Each Incentive." . Free with museum admission. Link in profile for more information. https://ift.tt/2Yl8A2B

[haa0520spring2019]

1) Postcommodity, art collective. Cristobal Martinez, Kade L. Twist, and Raven Chacon.

2) Map of the geographical location of the installation

3) Repellent Fence individual balloon being installed 

4) Repellent Fence with US/Mexico border wall in background  

5) Repellent Fence, 2-mile expanse

6) Photograph of an individual balloon on display

7) Video: https://youtu.be/KqgrTH7xk-Q 

[creativinn]

Postcommodity, a collective comprised of Kade L....

Postcommodity, a collective comprised of Kade L. Twist and SFAI Art + Technology  Chair Cristóbal Martínez, has been awarded the 2018 Carnegie International Fine Prize! 

Founded in 1896, Carnegie International is the second-oldest Contemporary Art exhibition in the world and has made Pittsburgh a hub for the contemporary art scene and artists alike. It takes place at the Carnegie Museum of Art every 3-5 years, and includes works from prominent current contemporary artists and collectives. This year, the indigenous collective Postcommodity contributed an enormous installation made of coal, white glass, and rusted steel harvested from local factories and mines entitled From Smoke and Tangled Waters We Carried Fire Home. 

The piece consumes the first floor of CMoA’s Hall of Sculpture, commanding the viewer’s attention on the industrial landscape of Pittsburgh. Shards of glass, coal, and industrial steel are organized in patterns reminiscent of indigenous sand paintings, connecting Postcommodity directly to the marginalized labor force upon which Pittsburgh’s steel industry was built. Pointedly referring to the history of colonized peoples whose labor was used to build the individual wealth that later funds art institutions such as the Carnegie Museum of Art.

According to Martínez, this work aims to rectify the romanization of these narratives by reincorporating the complexity of its colonial past. From Smoke and Tangled Waters We Carried Fire Home brings to life the story of black labor unions born from these shards and empowered through music; a poetic take on a difficult history. Keeping in tune with the contemporary use of the space, jazz musicians will draw from the piece in their scores expanding the viewer’s experience from one that is merely visual to one that is environmental. During its lifetime at Carnegie, the piece will become a new foundation to rebuild this historical fantasy of an industrial America. 

In addition to the major accomplishment of winning the globally-recognized Fine Prize, Postcommodity provided SFAI students with the opportunity to participate in Carnegie International. Their interactive work will be shown in November at CMoA’s University Night with Postcommodity. Cristóbal Martínez and Kade Twist of Postcommodity will speak about their work, and the challenges of communicating complex stories through visual language. Doors will be open to university students, faculty and staff. 

Images: (1-2) Postcommodity, Through Smoke and Tangled Waters We Carried Fire Home, 2018. Installation photos courtesy of Carnegie International. (3) Cristóbal Martínez installing Through Smoke and Tangled Waters We Carried Fire Home at Carnegie Museum of Art, 2018. Photo courtesy of Carnegie International. 

Source

http://immaterial.sfai.edu/post/179325988500/postcommodity-news

[marriagebase]

10 Native American Influencers And Artists to Follow

With more initiatives being done to recognize Native American land under our feet, Native Americans are turning to social media and art to share their message and redefining what it means to be thankful. From makeup tutorials to everyday advocacy, see what these influencers are doing to share their art and words with the world.

1. Indigenous Goddess Gang 

The Indigenous Goddess Gang consists of a plethora of beautiful, indigenous femmes that share knowledge and medicine through their online platform. It is a space for Indigenous people and acknowledges the land that was taken from them and the cultures they are actively reclaiming: knowledge, identity, and medicine.

This is their project statement:

“As a project which centers indigenous women, we also recognize the crucial work of our queer, trans, two-spirit and non-binary communities, and we acknowledge that we have a lot of work to do; to walk together, to reclaim our knowledge together and to move forward together.” (Indigenous Goddess Gang, About The Goddesses)

They have a great, active Instagram that is up to date on all the latest news and issues surrounding Indigenous lifestyle.

2. Juliana Brown Eyes 

Juliana is not only known as a photographer and influencer, but she is a bass player for a Native band called “Scatter Their Own.” She is dedicated to exposing native youth and her general community to the world of Native American culture through her art, photography, and words.

3. Matika Wilbur & Project 562

Matika Wilbur is a member of Swinomish and Tulalip tribes in Washington State and was raised in a family of fishermen. As a photographer, Wilbur worked in education and experienced the lack of resources to teach indigenous knowledge to Native youths.

Her photography projects are dedicated to these kinds of issues she has experienced throughout her life. Project 562 gives homage to over 562 indigenous nations in an effort to provide positive imagery to Native youths and community members.

4. Yéil Ta-Tseen

Or, Nicholas Galanin, takes a multi-media approach to making his art. He combines sculpture, installation, performance, video, photography, and new media. His work addresses issues of authority, authenticity, the Native American experience, and commoditization of Indigenous culture. Often provocative, he also considers the exchange of identity and culture between Native and non-Native communities.

5. Wendy Red Star

Native American contemporary multimedia and visual artist, Wendy Red Star, often takes a humorous approach to her art. She uses Native American imagery drawn from traditional media to draw her audience in. She confronts romanticized representations of Native American culture in American culture, for instance, headdresses, and reclaims them back to their formal, traditional custom.

https://ift.tt/1XlJNBF

Peelatchiwaaxpáash / Medicine Crow (Raven) by Wendy Red Star

6. Postcommodity Collective

Comprised of Cristobal Martinez and Kade L. Twist, Postcommodity functions as an Indigenous lenses and voice to engage in “assaultive manifestations of the global market and its supporting institutions, public perceptions, beliefs, and individual actions that comprise ever-expanding, multinational, multiracial, and multiethnic colonizing force defining the 21st Century through ever increasing velocities and complex forms of violence.

Perceptive and enigmatic, Postcommodity has had their art showcased and exhibited at galleries such as the Whitney in New York City.

????SFAI President Knox dreams up a glorious group show featuring works that empower us to change things, like @Postcommodity's "Repellent Fence"

See more? https://t.co/NzXx3R1uAo

— Image: "Repellant Fence," 2015. Land art installation. Photo: Michael Lundgren pic.twitter.com/JpVnNRRVKJ

— SFAI (@SFAIofficial) February 8, 2018

"Postcommodity's exhibition seemed designed to evoke the trepidation felt by migrants crossing the border at night." https://t.co/NLLe4FHL5H pic.twitter.com/J3PrAf4Mu7

— Art in America (@ArtinAmerica) July 30, 2017

7. Vision Maker Media 

Primarily creating their own website, the Vision Maker Media focuses on empowering and engaging Native folk to tell and share their stories. Creating a space for Educators, Creators, Filmmakers, and all wanting knowledge on Indigenous issues, Vision Maker Media is a valuable resource.

8. Seukteoma

Hon’mana Seukteoma is from Arizona and prides her Youtube channel on speaking about indigenous issues all the while creating a loving and interactive community that informs. She loves giving back to her community and has an Instagram she keeps active on as well.

This is a great video in response to Non-Native American Youtubers creating Native American tutorials:

9. Natalie Franklin

Avid traveler and mother, Natalie vlogs her travels for all to enjoy. She loves hiking and going on adventures, often following up to her risky, but still fun-to-watch vlogs. Offering a positive and loving space to all her followers and visitors, Natalie has a great connection to nature and shares it with similar-minded people.

10. The 1941’s

To finish our list, these group of creators are known for their tongue-and-cheek humor. The 1941’s are a sketch comedy group based in Minnesota and Oklahoma. From their About Me, they are “chock full of cynicism and splashed with a good dose of indigenous satire.”

Often making sketches about Indigenous culture and/or Indigenous issues, this group is a one-of-a-kind comedy group. Even if you’re not blown away by their jokes, their presence is still great and informing.

  The post 10 Native American Influencers And Artists to Follow appeared first on Resource.

[artistemmaduehr-blog]

Whitney Artists

The formation of self and the individual’s place in a turbulent society are among the key themes reflected in the work of the artists selected for the 2017 Whitney Biennial. The exhibition includes sixty-three participants, ranging from emerging to well-established individuals and collectives working in painting, sculpture, drawing, installation, film and video, photography, activism, performance, music, and video game design.

The Whitney Biennial is the longest running survey of contemporary art in the United States, with a history of exhibiting the most promising and influential artists and provoking lively debate. The 2017 Biennial is the Museum’s seventy-eighth in a continuous series of Annual and Biennial exhibitions initiated by Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney in 1932. It is the first to be held in the Whitney’s downtown home at 99 Gansevoort Street, and the largest ever in terms of gallery space.

Interesting findings:

The 1993 Whitney Biennial was the most diverse exhibit by a major American museum up until that time.[10] In 1970 less than 1% of artists at the Whitney Museum were non-white. In 1991, only 10% of artists were non white. Vanessa Faye Johnson claimed that despite intentions, the "lack of exchange and dialogue, the simplification of complex issues in the Biennial" effectively cast the artists largely as victims in the eyes of the public.

Henry Taylor:

Henry Taylor makes paintings that confront the increasingly visible racial tensions between law enforcement and the communities they serve. THE TIMES THAY AINT A CHANGING, FAST ENOUGH! draws on the video Diamond Reynolds captured moments after her fiancé, Philando Castile, had been fatally shot by a police officer in July 2016 in Falcon Heights, Minnesota— an incident that sparked protests nationwide. Taylor’s graphic painting insists that such violence requires an urgent response.

Throughout his career, Taylor has remained committed to uncovering stories—about his family, about black people, about power and despair. “My painting is about…trying to be about some love shit, you know what I mean?” the artist said. “I had a cousin I called Aunt Peggy, and she came to me in a dream. ‘Henry, just tell the truth!’ That’s all she said! And I’ll never forget it. I’m still digging. I just want to be honest and make something beautiful that I can go back and look at and say: ‘I’m proud of that.’”

Jess

Born 1986 in Portland, OR

Lives in Brooklyn, NY

With her material arsenal of found objects, industrial products, fabrics, and foam, Jessi Reaves assembles objects that challenge the boundary between furniture and sculpture. Although designed for use, her works summon a lyrical—rather than functional—association with the body.

During the Biennial, Reaves’s works are on view throughout the Museum, including its conference rooms. For Herman’s Dress, the artist sheathed an Eames Herman Miller sofa in a translucent pink silk slipcover. Her decidedly feminine embellishment gives an erotic charge to this once-radical, now safely stylish modernist statement. In another provocative alteration, Reaves zipped blue waterproof vinyl around a freestanding, wooden shelf, straitjacketing the object from its utilitarian function yet imbuing the shape with a mysterious force.

On several occasions the artist has used studio sawdust mixed with glue, but instead of employing this “woodworker’s trick” to repair imperfections, she applies it as structural material and decorative flourish. Rejecting the sleek craftsmanship of “iconic” midcentury design, Reaves exaggerates markers of construction to an almost aggressive abundance.

Matt Browning

Born 1984 in Redmond, WA

Lives in Seattle, WA

For Matt Browning, crafts such as weaving, stitching, and whittling represent a kind of labor that is often disregarded in art. In his works, he investigates both materiality and the potential reconciliation of traditional craft practices with modernist abstraction. By using folk techniques to create common manufactured forms, Browning brings traces of his hand to structures associated with Minimal and Conceptual art. For the Biennial, Browning created a series of grids. Although they look alike, they are not mass-produced: to make each one, the artist hand-carved a single block of wood into interlocking sections, responding to traditional whittled forms that mimic the links of a chain.

Postcommodity

(Raven Chacon, Cristóbal Martínez, and Kade L. Twist)

Founded 2007

A Very Long Line, a video installation by Postcommodity, focuses on the border between the United States and Mexico, an emotionally and politically charged site that has become even more contentious through the 2016 election and the beginning of the current presidential administration.

The installation is designed to disorient, with spinning video projections and out-of-sync audio evoking “genesis amnesia,” or the condition of forgetting one’s own origins. In this case, what has been forgotten—primarily by citizens of the United States—is the Indigenous status of peoples from the Western Hemisphere, including immigrants from Mexico and Guatemala. Forgotten, too, are the Indigenous trade and migration routes that have crisscrossed what is now the border since before European colonization. Filmed from the window of a car, A Very Long Line brings those routes into the dizzying present, one in which the border is never fully known or understood.

Jon Kessler

Born 1957 in Yonkers, NY

Lives in New York, NY

Jon Kessler makes what he calls “performative sculptures,” whose humor and kitsch belie their serious critique. The two works on view in the 2017 Biennial, Exodus and Evolution, are part of a larger in-process project, The Floating World, which addresses the social and environmental impacts of climate change. In Exodus, the series of eBay-sourced figurines that rotate around a screen in an endless march are evocative of mass migrations of people, whether from natural disasters or political situations such as the Syrian refugee crisis. Evolution focuses attention on rising sea levels; two figures in snorkel gear take pictures, apparently indifferent to or ignorant of any impending danger. The repeating image of a proposed luxury residential skyscraper by the late architect Zaha Hadid reinforces the artist’s point: even as the effects of climate change displace millions in low-lying areas, those who can afford not to care are still choosing to build waterfront pleasure palaces.

Kaari Upson

Born 1972 in San Bernardino, CA

Lives in Los Angeles, CA

In Kaari Upson’s recent work, she transforms the soft, flaccid forms of upholstered furniture into solid sculptures. To make the work on view in the 2017 Biennial, she worked from a sectional sofa she found in a Las Vegas tract home and then left in the driveway behind her Los Angeles studio for a year and a half, casting its sections in urethane again and again. The resulting sculptures are still recognizable as furniture, but Upson obscures her sources both by reorienting the forms and by painting the surfaces to abstract the stains the upholstery accrued through use and exposure. Drooping against the wall like a flayed skin or rearing up to tower over the viewer, the sculptures take on a visceral quality, suggesting at once the interior and exterior of the human body.

Dana Schutz

Born 1976 in Livonia, MI

Lives in Brooklyn, NY

In Dana Schutz’s painting for the Biennial, Elevator, figures are seen embroiled in a struggle, both with themselves and with larger-than-life insects, denoting a state of anxiety and alarm. The work (whose dimensions mirror those of the Museum’s large freight elevator) plays with time, as action and gesture appear suspended. Like a truncated history painting, an epic scene is glimpsed between two doors that may be closing or opening. Schutz deploys the transitional space of the elevator as a metaphor for other social spaces that are at once public and private, intimate and estranging, inviting us to consider our own position or role amid the chaos.

Tuan Andrew Nguyen

Born 1976 in Saigon, Vietnam

Lives in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Tuan Andrew Nguyen’s short film The Island is shot entirely on Pulau Bidong, an island off the coast of Malaysia that became the largest and longest-operating refugee camp after the Vietnam War. The artist and his family were some of the 250,000 people who inhabited the tiny island between 1978 and 1991; it was once one of the most densely populated places in the world. After the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees shuttered the camp in 1991, Pulau Bidong became overgrown by jungle, filled with crumbling monuments and relics.

Tuan Andrew Nguyen’s film takes place in a dystopian future in which the last man on earth—having escaped forced repatriation to Vietnam—finds a United Nations scientist who has washed ashore after the world’s last nuclear battle. By weaving together footage from Bidong’s past with a narrative set in its future, Nguyen questions the individual’s relationship to history, trauma, nationhood, and displacement.