Speaking Without Words

Courtesy of the artist.

Siobhan Aluvalot. Bird. Courtesy of the artist.

“A place where there isn’t any trouble. Do you suppose there is such a place, Toto? There must be. It’s not a place you can get to by a boat or a train. It’s far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain…” —The Wizard of Oz, 1939

Pouring through musty magazines, collaging began as a process of extracting moods and feelings and playing with abstractions. Revealing powerful images that were held captive and concealed by collective fears of feminine power. I transport myself through layers and textures that soothed my sore spots as I traveled. In the warm darkness are the most colorful lights, sticky pearls stringing together songs and teasing out movements; wild and unrestrained that originate in the body and inform the brain through rhythm and vibration. Reinterpreting, re-imagining, forecasting, truth, seeking, escape (sometimes). Presenting desires of representation; dreams through dramatic reenactments in dimensions transcribed from nonverbal communications and sensations; shuffling images and following threads of attraction.

Courtesy of the artist.

Siobhan Aluvalot. Magic. Courtesy of the artist.

beach on the walks and speaking without words
i make myself art
open
vulnerable
combining elements and forces awakens living trajectories
diving into the darkest depths surfacing with shadowy elements
transformed into iridescence upon inspection.
collector and muse of angles and possibilities
working with all of my senses
exploring hidden languages of my spiritual queer ancestors
developed out of necessity
when keeping safe was (is) keeping secret

make up
pleasure
satisfaction

performance that reveals through
steps and missteps
the hips don’t lie

radioactive memories that seep slowly through the pores
photographic paper in my emotional body develops

listening with breath

filling in and repositioning
millionsofcolors
grainsofsand

Courtesy of the artist.

Siobhan Aluvalot. Untitled. Courtesy of the artist.

In the warm darkness are the most colorful lights, sticky pearls stringing together songs and teasing out movements.

The curtain is raised and behind it not only does the emperor have no clothes, he has no skin or blood, no heart or brain or tissues or veins—just a dusty skeleton taking your money and wiping blood on your hands. Disassociation and blackouts are popular accessories in a culture built upon a dynasty of genocide, of violence, of shameful histories spun as hero’s journeys. The truth doesn’t protect you. Free Chelsea Manning.

“These documents were important because they relate to two connected counter-insurgency conflicts in real-time from the ground. Humanity has never had this complete and detailed a record of what modern warfare actually looks like. Once you realize that the coordinates represent a real place where people live, that the dates happened in our recent history, that the numbers are actually human lives–with all the love, hope, dreams, hatred, fear, and nightmares that come with them–then it’s difficult to ever forget how important these documents are.” —Chelsea Manning

“A SYMPHONY OF DEATH RATTLES.

HISTORY WILL NOT FORGET

THIS HOLIDAY OF DEATH.

HISTORY WILL NOT FORGET

THIS HOLIDAY OF DEATH.”

—John Waters, Desperate Living, 1977

 

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