Helen Frankenthaler poured the paint on the canvas like the men did but it was far more fluid and bled together in pleasing ways. Today my Christmas cactus offers up one pink bud after 2 years of never blooming. Congratulations. You are like a baby eating solid food, both myself and the cactus. Ridiculous? Certainly. I hang my Grandfather’s navy peacoat over a chair and put a lamp under it and call it art. I call the piece Honor. I call the piece Teeth. I haven’t actually named the piece yet. My computer screen is a lover and so is my pantry. So is my closet full of clothes. My actual lover texts me to fuck and I accept. All day long I have been rolling the skin off my middle-aged body into art and browser history. It is time to mount the livestock and ride.
Adam Boehmer is a Seattle-based artist, writer, and musician. His current work investigates the sculptural qualities of everyday life including movement, clothing and dress, the arranging of physical objects, and the structures of words on a page. His visual art has shown at Nepo5k, LxWxH, Vignettes, and Cornish College of the Arts. His poetry has been published in journals nationwide including The Los Angeles Review, Spork, Monarch Review, and the anthology The Full Spectrum from Knopf Press. He creates folk music under the nameTenderfoot. Find him at adamboehmer.com