All the rush of a subway car on the loose, all the music of a brain scan on acid, all the power of a dive into Niagara.
— Bob Holman
This illustration from the booklet which accompanied the CD of this monologue performed with Keith Jafrate and Shaun Blezard of Orfeo 5, shows my dad, Bill Sherar (back row extreme right), one of the first Pathfinders onto Saipan in WWII, with his Japanese family in Nagasaki circa 1950. The post marks ground zero for the explosion of the atom bomb.
Dedicated to all those who have ever worked the line piecing poultry at a rate of up to 145 chickens per minute, this easy to duplicate performance can be integrated into an event or done as an installation or performance.
All you need is catering cards and some chicken wings. Plus, if you serve them, someting to splint your hands in solidarity.
This one is for my brother Tim Murphy because it tells the story of the rifle I hauled through the NYC subway to my home in Brooklyn after painting it for a design class at Parson's school of design with Marvin Israel. The third in a series that started with using words with objects to become putting words on an object and then just words to make an object in the mind, with this the chosen object concrete as hell held between my legs facing backwards in the old F train car heading for Cobble Hill and nodding off from lack of sleep after being up all night getting it ready, Its sight sticking through the brown paper wrapping when three kids surround me to ask me about it. Not that I told them much about what I went through to get it from my brother, recently drafted and down in Fort Gordon Georgia that winter of '67 for basic training, nor will I tell you either but pretty soon I should have a recording and you can hear it all then.