Brandon Perdomo presents a digital manipulation alongside Mercy, a poem by Rudy Francisco, and considers circumstance of serendipity in the process of becoming, and what coping with all that noise means anyway.
Gabriel Solis joined the OHMA workshop on 11 March, 2021 for a discussion on his work of the collection of testimony - having already been familiar with one of his initiatives, the Texas After Violence Project, I was eager to hear of his drive and process. He describes the work:
Texas After Violence Project is a community-based restorative justice and multimedia documentary project focused on cultivating deeper understandings of the impacts of interpersonal and state violence on individuals, families, and communities. Our mission is to conduct holistic research and to build an archive of stories and other materials that serve as resources for community dialogue and creating policies that prevent violence and promote nonviolence. TAVP's current research and documentation projects focus on police shootings, in-custody deaths, mass incarceration, solitary confinement, and the death penalty.
At the time of hearing stories of passion and collaboration during this semester’s workshop series, I was building a body of testimony-fueled work concerning creative process informed by lived experience (www.sheddingsomethingshedding.com). As the many components were compiled within this work, there were observable commonalities which had presented themselves focused on negotiation of ancestry, how bodies are perceived in both private and public spheres, and the creative drives these experiences inspire - I was reminded of a scene from the longtime BBC series Doctor Who: in this scenario, the humanoid hero questions a wealthy Victorian figure accused of hosting public festivities to fuel his continued generational wealth.
The Doctor: Well, that would explain the lack of humanity. What makes you so sure your life is worth more than those people out there on the ice? Is it the money? The accident of birth, that puts you inside the big, fancy house.
Sutcliffe: I help move this country forward. I move this Empire forward.
The Doctor: Human progress isn’t measured by industry. It’s measured by the value you place on a life. An unimportant life. A life without privilege. The boy who died on the river, that boy’s value is your value. That’s what defines an age, that’s… what defines a species.
A poem by Rudy Francisco had become a favorite of mine in the last year. Concerning the “accidental births” which place us in the geographic, political, and socio-economic circumstances in which we are born, fear facing mortality and ecosystem both beyond and with focus to human-centric concern, this piece had left an impression on myself with a feeling similar to a poignant children’s song.
Mercy
She asked me to kill the spider.
Instead, I get the most
peaceful weapons I can find.
I take a cup & a napkin,
I catch the spider, put it outside
and allow it to walk away.
If I am ever caught in the wrong place
at the wrong time, just being alive
and not bothering anyone
I hope I am greeted
with the same kind
of mercy.
The images displayed in this collage are sourced from imagery of my pedestrian life - scenery that has surrounded me during isolation within this pandemic - a time that had fueled anxiety and existential query, but also inspired fierce camaraderie and community - flowers, paintings and chipped walls, webs built around me which dance with the breeze that sneaks through the cracks of my window. Abstractions of the imagery were intentionally made to mimic a sense of dizziness likened to television static I often experience when standing up after hours of Zoom-based meeting sessions and writing, organizing and news-watching, sharing and sighing and laughing and crying. May we all find outlets to guide our way through times: of light both heavy and weightless, of darkness, of happiness, of confused jubilation, of anger, of ecstatic joy, of love and loss and strength-bearing to again engage. As poet George Wallace once told me in a college dive-bar: “A kettle without a hole explodes.”
Brandon Perdomo is a multidisciplinary artist based in the occupied territories of Lenapehoking, currently known as New York City, fascinated with self-reflection and alterity, which are the engines of his work. More on his work and collaborations can be found at: https://www.brandonperdomo.com/