all or nothing #44 - what’s your price?
table of contents
1.events 2.words 3.missed connections 4.horoscope 5.listen
»looking forward
the space in between artist talk - 5.20, 6pm
art can be expensive, but talk is cheap. if you can’t afford a piece, then don’t trip, because the second best thing to actually owning artwork is listening to artists talk about and describe their work with extreme precision and detail. it’s like an nft that exists in your mind instead of the cloud, which is infinitely better because the cloud can be unplugged, but your mind is forever. well, until your brain starts to slowly deteriorate and your memories begin to fade and your entire life, being, and consciousness slowly fades into the murky space between a ghostly after-image and an eventual corpse. anyway, come through on may 20th to our 77 e 3rd spot to hear art advisor rob fields in conversation with artists grace lynne haynes and cassandra mayela allen as they close their duo exhibiiton, the space in between.
words
+how to unsuccessfully be yourself+
we’re all a multitude of things: children, parents, siblings, friends, enemies. most of all, we are strangers. you can go your whole life meeting as many people as possible, but despite your best efforts, you’ll still die a stranger to the vast majority of people on this planet. even the most well-known and celebrated figures on earth are still strangers to most. despite such circumstances, we persist in attempting to familiarize and befriend one another in a mad dash toward escaping anonymity. every word uttered, hand shooketh, smile flashed, and kind gesture received is done with the ulterior motive of building a connection in a desperate attempt to carve out a little sliver of recognition in the memory bank of another human being. existing in someone else’s mind is the closest thing to eternal life to be discovered in human history. the version of you that is perceived and retained despite a great deal of constant mental purging knows no bounds and is free from following laws, adhering to social norms, living morally, or any precise definition; it is free-flowing, amorphous, and forever changing. although another person’s mental projection of you isn’t literally you, it doesn’t mean it is not an accurate or real representation. this concept of you is based on your past actions, and what are we other than the sum of our actions? yet this mental concoction of disjointed moments, or even a single encounter, somehow fabricating the complexity of an actual human being's essence is impossible; however, it is still our only genuine means of attempting to forge bonds. to maintain a relationship of any kind, one must make various assumptions informed by memory and previous experience to properly communicate, demonstrate interest, and resume building upon the initial connection. after enough time, trust is eventually pieced together on the extremely fragile notion that you have seen enough to determine the strength of one’s character and their ability to respond accordingly in a plethora of unknown situations. but to bastardize a famous quote said by some ungooglable rando and also probably your overbearing aunt giving relationship advice, “how can you trust somebody else when you don’t even trust yourself?” personally, i don’t trust myself to not open a bag of chips. if there is a bag of chips within arms reach, or popcorn, or those bougie little parmesan bites, or anything with a solid crunch, it will be opened and mindlessly consumed by me. even if i'm not hungry, even if i told myself i wouldn’t, especially if someone else told me not to, they are getting eaten. and, you know i love to write, but also it gives me so much anxiety that sometimes i hate to write. it’s ecstasy when you find that flow, and it feels like god is entering your body and leaking his celestial essence into your fingertips, guiding them over the keyboard like it’s a ouija board communicating celestial messages, but it’s absolute hell staring at a blank page and waiting for inspiration to strike. some days i’m a writer. most days i’m not. some days i’m happy. most day’s i’m not. some days i’m clever. most days i’m not. and that’s what makes life exciting: the mystery of waking up every day, never knowing what you’re going to feel, say, or do next. on a macro level, we may have no free will, but on the small scale, potential chaos is abound. so don’t get so caught up with the existential questions and the meaning of life, because all you are is a series of choices that haven’t been made or even presented to you yet. if one of those choices happens to be selling out your comrades in the revolution to afford a loaf of bread for your starving daughter or making bad art to cop an overpriced bag, then so be it. if you are nothing and will eventually return to nothing, then there’s nothing to be done. and therefore, next time you’re faced with a decision that poses your morals in opposition to some sort of material or egotistical advancement, just remember to be yourself and know that you can’t sell out if you were nothing to begin with.
missed connections
+5.1 the space in between opening
you: a merperson, a siren, or perhaps just a fish
me: a recreational marine biologist
description:
your eyes landed in my loins setting a blaze to my inner passions, reviving lost loves and anecdotes to be sprinkled into flirtatious courtship. pardon me captain, may i come aboard your ship and become your first mate?
+5.2 edward performance
you: appeared from the heavens
me: a skeptical recipient
description:
in a flash you appeared. one minute you gone but now you here. all in huff and commotion, my hands touched your body, hoping you’re not broken. we spent the night exchanging miscommunication, a test of patience, before leaving you at another doorstep waiting.
horoscopes
+Aries+
if all you see is green, then you’re probably in the midst of some sort of crisis and you should call a medical professional immediately.
+Taurus+
never forget that harriet tubman still isn’t on the $20 dollar bill.
+Gemini+
that famous gemini mockingly rhymed, “cars, money, girls and the clothes / aw, man, you sold your soul,” reminding you that the moment you achieve your dreams, people will hate you. maybe the only option is to hate them first.
+Cancer+
every US dollar has about 1.37 micrograms of cocaine on it so if you have a billion dollars you have about 3 pounds of cocaine, which is over the threshold for federal trafficking laws, making being a billionaire illegal.
+Leo+
making art isn’t easy, but making money from your art is even harder, so maybe cut out the middle man and just try making money instead?
+Virgo+
if money can be created, then it can also be destroyed. the world began with a big bang and it will end with one, too.
+Libra+
it’s a lot easier to live according to your morals and maintain a dignified life once you’re already dirty rotten filthy stinking rich.
+Scorpio+
neptune, blue, calendar, candle, blue cup, red cup, yellow cup, new lighter, magenta spirit, golden goose, unlaid eggs, eggs benedict, benedict arnold, arnold’s leggings, fledgling, dead flowers, living snowflakes, summer is forever, something something, two tone sneakers, easy mornings, that one sunday, that other sunday, that sunday before, welcome the kraken to the den of slumbering thunder prior to awakening the celestial hawk of elderly love, and never forget to bring at least twenty-nine packs of business cards to the lavender motorcycle race. also keep believing until they don’t want you to stop and pack a handkerchief bindle with at least twenty four individually wrapped purple skittles, an extra pair of teal shoe laces, three curly fries from papaya king, 17.19 ounces of store brand purell, the corner of an old tortilla chip, a used tissue (can be used by you or someone else), a yellow raincoat, a plucky attitude, the undying will to live, an expired driver’s license, and ratatouille on vhs. read between the lines, under the lines, around the lines, before the lines, next to the lines, near the lines, close to the lines, far from the lines, and towards the lines. what constitutes a line is up to you. decipher this message and you will find the $10,000 dollar bounty we have buried somewhere in seward park. this is not a joke. happy hunting.
+Sagittarius+
in death, one’s muscles relax and thus comes the release of their bowels and bladder, resulting in a volcanic oozing of poop and piss. knowing that you should give up on trying to die with honor.
+Capricorn+
whether crossing streets or cutting corners, always remember to look both ways. even with your head held high, someone can still attack you from behind.
+Aquarius+
wealth is not of the heart, mind, nor pocket. it’s simply a word that someone made up.
+Pisces+
your success is inevitable.
playlist
+send us your writing, ideas, notes, observations or anything you want to gallery@allstnyc.com to be considered for future editions of all or nothing+
image credits
images are by cassandra mayela allen, as part of her duo exhibition with grace lynne haynes, the space in between, on view at 77 e 3rd street through may 20.