About the artwork
Suite Oran is a film made with footage I took while in Oran, Algeria as an invited artist for the Biennale Méditerranéenne d’art contemporain d’Oran. I was there for five days, but the experience affected me in a profound way. This work is about humanity, about love, about the overlapping of desires of different people and the kindness extended by strangers in the face of hope for love and understanding.
Acerca de la pieza
Suite Oran es un film que realicé con material que grabé mientras estaba en Oran, Algeria, formando parte en la Biennale Méditerranéenne d’art contemporain d’Oran. Estuve ahí durante cinco días, pero la experiencia me afectó de manera profunda. Este trabajo es acerca de humanidad, acerca del amor, sobre los deseos superpuestos de personas diferentes y la bondad extendida por extraños en la cara de la esperanza por el amor y entendimiento.
“A wary thing it is, when we cross the boundaries of love and friendship.
In contrast, moments alone send compliments to moments together, hoping to merge at last; one.
Love takes the upper branch leaving me tossed over a tree limb, a helpless ragdoll waiting for something to happen, anything at all.
An act of nature or derision, will do, to change my status on this branch, my belly pressed tightly in an uncomfortable position; breathing is something I was never so aware of.
The Faculty of Love, take their seats and they review the matter. Each sending their summations, a customary call to order and my fate resembles secondary school, and the lost elements of youth.
Your pride might be the matter, what matters most to you. I am here just waiting, a torsion in text, I try to tell myself lies, to excuse away what can never be excused; my longing, left out on the table for all to see, as some private comfort, with which, an incendiary remark cast out by accident, might reveal my inner toil.
I would surrender to you my liberty, but does this mean our union has already failed? Isn’t it important what I want. I say it as a statement, not really a question, for the answer should be circumspect around the room we travel. But it isn’t and I twist this tale inside me and I hope.
She lies beside my old self, gesturing, blind, and covered in black linen from the Chest of Hope in far off lands. Is it really possible, this she, was once me? Her coiled thoughts carefully coiffed to present themselves as tame?
You have a name, I keep safe within the hole that once was a young girl’s heart.
I didn’t mean for this to happen, to fall so emphatically, but I have and you’re a whisp of thin air traveling along trade routes, syphoning away the mystery of my regrets into your own perils of anatomy and hopelessness.
Does anyone dare look inside the pot, to know what the witches’ brew withstands? I can, but, just endure it for the feeling drives me from my path. I know this is an indication of a fate already sealed, but I wish, and I wish, and I wish, imagining the sea between us, an immersion of self in the water of ecstasy a lyrical rendering at best, and a twisting of circumstance at least.
You might never see me again, but I have this, my words, the proof I need, that I can love just as if it is an ordinary act of faith, and I wait, just a little longer for my fate to join me, a girl by my side, that once was myself and my pride.
But, I wonder, if you will forgive me this indulgence of my personality, this wish that eternity might link us, wholeheartedly, in an embrace of passion and integrity. It is more than you expected from me and now you have to recreate the boundary between us.”