My junior year of high school I lay in a crucifix position on the floor of
my art history class wearing only a pair of 501's. I had someone
saran-wrap ice-cubes onto my arms and then place a 15 lb block of ice on my
chest.
The "piece" was called "Cold War." The ice would cause my muscles to
tighten and become tense...as tense as the escalating arms-race between
Russia and the US. (Keep in mind, this was '87 and I was listening to
Bauhaus and doodling mushroom clouds on my geometry notes.)
As the ice melted on me, I went into a pain/cold trance and my
concentration disintegrated. I forgot everything I intended to say and
started telling stories about times in my life when I'd been really, really
cold.
Funny...even then, I used art as an excuse to parade around with my shirt
off.
May 3, nineteen98
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