all or nothing #20 - where do your loyalties lie?
table of contents
1.events 2.words 3.missed connections 4.horoscope 5.listen
»looking forward
by all means: figure drawing
Learn to follow the impulse of your body. Let your hand move you and stop stifling your creativity. The sooner you accept the curiosity of your inner child, the sooner your inner artist will be released. Join us for our next figure drawing class at 7:30 pm on May 14th at 119 Hester Street, and allow the collective to initiate your path toward artistic enlightenment.
»looking back
entrance opening reception
Many who entered our Hester Street location during the run of Aleksandra Dougal’s exhibition Entrance claimed to have exited the gallery profoundly changed. With her large scale landscapes lining the walls, the gallery truly became a passageway into Dougal’s memory, showcasing her talent for balancing abstraction and recreation. Passersby were captivated, onlookers enchanted, and hours were lost to soul searching and art gazing.
art at work: sanitation & social practice opening reception
There’s a lot to see in New York, so much goes unnoticed, particularly the work done to keep the city clean. Since you’re too busy to even acknowledge the efforts of New York’s Department of Sanitation, we can’t blame you for missing the opening reception of Art at Work, but considering the exhibition’s on view until May 30th, you have no excuse not to swing by our 119 Hester location and learn more about Sanitation & Social Practice.
words
+are we still entertained?+
I’m a pacifist, but I freaking love really violent action movies. Well, I guess it’d be more accurate to say that I’d like to consider myself to be a pacifist, but how exactly is one a practicing pacifist? In order to actively assume the role of a pacifist, you must be continuously putting yourself in harm's way in order to not fight back, right? Or is a pacifist more like a peacekeeper? Seeking out contentious arguments that may devolve into violence and, just at the apex of aggression, a committed pacifist swoops in and defuses the situation with a mouthful reason and kindness. That sounds like an honorable existence, but it’s unsustainable, as I try to avoid being in situations where I might get punched in the face. Once you’ve been punched in the face, you want to do everything in your power to avoid being punched in the face again. So, I guess a more fitting designation for my approach to violence would be that of a passive pacifist. I oppose all forms of violence, but I’m just not doing anything about it other than flapping my gums occasionally. My opposition to violence developed for a few reasons. Vaguely, I’ve seen some shit and I’ve done some shit. More specifically, men, all men, scare the living shit out of me (unfortunately, myself included 😞). I’ve looked into the eyes of someone who I’m certain wanted to kill me. There was nothing but pure hatred there and I could tell in the intensity of their movements, the ferocity of their strikes, and the animalistic noises emanating from their throat, that in this single moment, they wanted nothing more than to strip my body of all life. The root of the conflict did not warrant this level of reaction at all and, in the moment, I was just really scared. But the scariest part of it all to me was what I did. Despite being internally in shambles, I mimicked my opponent’s performance, matching his energy and his apparent proclivity for violence. From my perspective, he was the bloodthirsty monster that I, the protagonist, had to defend myself against by stooping to his level of brutality. In reality, though, he was probably just as scared of me as I was of him. In my mind, I think I still look like a twelve year old version of myself who’s not a threat to anybody, but, in reality, I’m not just an awkward kid anymore. I’m a grown man that’s capable of inflicting violence and pain upon others. The actual fight was a blur of pain and chaos. Energy flooded my body, burning in my veins to leak out. I simultaneously wanted to run a marathon and collapse and cry in a ball. It was messy and uncoordinated like two fleshy sacks of meat flailing against each other. There were no victors or knockouts or triumphs, just bloody knuckles, bruised egos, and remorseful losers. It was nothing like the movies. Glory was nowhere to be found and the girl had lost interest long before the brouhaha even began. It was pointless. As I sat on the sidewalk covered in sweat and alcohol, staring into a puddle, I contemplated the humanity of the person I had just so desperately tried to hurt. I grew up in a “You never start a fight, but you always finish it” household. I’ve been called some extremely heinous things and I’ve very politely turned the other cheek. I’ve even been spit on and didn’t respond. There’s levels of physicality that warrant different reactions, though. A push, a slap, getting tripped, all of that I can move past and, although I’ll be internally furious, I can get over it through clenched teeth and a good playlist. I can’t ignore the intensity of a real threat. I can’t walk away from a punch that cleanly connects, or a tackle that brings me to the ground or any repeated series of strikes, because now I’ve lost all leverage, and if you choose to, you could keep pushing and keep pushing and potentially take my life. And I’m a pacifist because I cherish all life, especially mine. Regardless of the reason, though, whenever I lose my temper, like I mean really lose my temper, I feel like an absolute piece of shit after. I detach from my body and I just look down at myself. Brow all furrowed, forehead veins popping, nostrils flaring, teeth clenched, emphatic arm movements, aggressive head gestures, it’s scary. And if it's scary to me, I can only imagine what it looks like to you. Never have I felt reassured after losing my cool. Even in situations where my aggression could be perceived as preventing further harm being done to someone else, I can’t help but get caught in a loop of thought like maybe my reaction was unnecessary and what if I just made an enemy that’s vowed vengeance upon me. Despite all of that, I still love action movies. All of humanity's worst traits are embraced, celebrated, and archived for future generations to consume and emulate. But since I’m a pacifist, I would never watch UFC, or any other sport championing brutality. Absolutely not. But fight club, or boxing movies? Definitely. I’ll binge hours of choreographed violence with snacks and a blankie. In theory, gladiator fights are undeniably entertaining, but does anyone actually want to see blood, or just feel the adrenaline rush of thinking blood may actually be spilled? Without a safe level of distance, violence isn’t fun, and seeing it up close is just plain depressing. In the real world, you'd never intentionally try to stoke the conflict between two complete strangers; that is truly psychotic behavior and everyone knows that. Yet we continue to betray our own morals and better judgment time and time again for a quick hit of excitement. A couple seconds of not being bored obviously offsets any moral dilemma. Competition can be a great motivator for things such as music and memes, but it can quickly devolve into hatred, which breeds fear and is ultimately just another form of unnecessary violence, bringing about unknowable damage without discernment. So as much as I love a real bloody, drawn out slug fest, sprinkled in with earth shattering accusations and high speed releases, after a while, it can all get a bit sad knowing that although it's not your life, it is someone’s.
missed connections
+entrance opening reception
You: inside
Me: outside
Description
The hem of your rolled up sleeve brushed up against my exposed arms, dragging roughly against my skin as we shuffled by each other in the doorway. I said sorry, you said sorry, we smiled at the ground. Our eyes met for a moment and I saw a passageway to another world in your pupils. So the question is, can I come inside?
+art at work opening reception
You: holding a tote bag that was upcycled from a graphic t-shirt
Me: holding a tote bag that was upcycled from a button down shirt
Description:
Meet me at the LIC Goodwill next Saturday at opening? I’ll be by the appliances :)
+sunday salon 4.28
You: a cowboy
Me: a rider
Description:
I didn’t know you were coming. It was unexpected to say the least. I don’t know what you were hiding behind those sunglasses, but I’d like to.I don’t know if you’re an AI render from my imagination, or the real deal, but either way, wherever you’re headed I’m coming, too.
horoscopes
+Aries+
Words will fail you. Feelings will fail you. People will fail you. But knowing is the half battle. Because what's known can never be unknown.
+Taurus+
Strike before they do. Never start a fight, but always finish it… with violence.
+Gemini+
Today is all about practice. You’ll never know when the next diss track is coming, so you gotta stay ready. Stay vigilant. The moment you let your guard down, you’re dead. But we’ll fix that. Find the nearest mirror. Stand in front of the mirror, close your eyes, then turn around. What do you see? Nothing, or everything? Depending on the answer, you should either sequester yourself away from society forever, or keep reading, but only you know what’s right. Anyway, go to the kitchen and get as much butter as you can find. If you don’t have butter, get the hell outside and buy some. A lot of it. Go into your bedroom with the butter and find a cardboard box. Break down the box. Put the flattened box down in the center of the room. Sit down on the cardboard and take off your shirt. Slowly but forcefully rub the butter into your back. Let the creamy animal fat fill your pores and really get all up into every groove and wrinkle. Now lay down on your back letting your buttery skin press up against the smooth cardboard. Close your eyes and spin. Spin fast. Spin wildly. Spin freely. Spin uncontrollably. Spin until you can’t keep spinning. And when you think you’ve had enough, just spin a little bit harder. The longer you spin, the better. With every spin, the stronger your back gets, and the stronger your back gets, the harder it is for a dufus brutus to sneak up on ya and do ya in. So just keep spinning.
+Cancer+
The only way to find the truth you’re after is by laying a good trap. Keep your arms open and the moment they get close enough, swallow them up whole.
+Leo+
Pain can only be prevented with isolation. Complete and utter isolation. You can’t stab yourself in the back, but you can trip and fall onto a knife if you’re a clumsy fool. So don’t be a clumsy fool and you’ll be okay.
+Virgo+
Would you rather be the betrayer, or the betrayed? It’s said that the one in front of the gun lives forever, but would you really want to live forever as a salad?
+Libra+
Don’t let them have your back. That’s your back and your back alone. Don’t let them pat it, watch it, touch it, feel it, or nothing. The closer they get, the more dangerous they are.
+Scorpio+
A famous Canadian once said, “Backstabbed so many times I started walkin' backwards.” In theory, if you walk backwards, you protect yourself from hidden threats, but in reality you’re just moving towards said threats faster because you still don’t have eyes on the back of your head. Rather than walking backwards, we suggest not moving at all.
+Sagittarius+
When you go back on your word, the only person you’re letting down is yourself. While you may forget, you’ll never be forgiven because the body keeps score and once stress is created in the body it can never be released.
+Capricorn+
An enemy can make you mad, but a lover can make you sad. So start acting good and stop acting bad.
+Aquarius+
If you never trust anyone, then your trust will never be broken, but what's never broken can never be fixed, so you can break some metaphorical eggs and make a metaphorical omelet or literally starve.
+Pisces+
Everyone you trust will betray you.
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
1. Jade Doskow 2. Francesca Pfister 3. Jade Doskow 4. Francesca Pfister 5. Francesca Pfister 6. Francesca Pfister