I AM THE VICTIM
I am the one standing at the back,
quiet,
wishful,
anxious,
tense,
**
HEAVY BREATHING
EYES DILATED
MY VOICE IS NOTHING BUT A WHISTLE.
**
I am speechless,
*
And my life is invisible.
**
Here I am: an open target,
Not ready for them, but they are ready for me,
On my way home,
After class,
In the bathroom,
In the cafeteria,
In the alley way,
In the library,
IN MY SANCTUARY.
**
They take over my sanctuary.
***
However, this does not faze me.
*
And this should not faze you,
BECAUSE NONE OF OUR STRUGGLES LAST FOREVER
*
I do not need anyone’s consent
TO BE WHO I AM.
***
We are free.
*
So live your full life, because this world is beautiful,
Despite the hell that you think is eternal.
*
Stop,
Look back,
And you will see that those people who hurt you are nothing.
They are nothing.
Let them be nothing, and they will be nothing.
**
You are strong,
And you need to know that
IT GETS BETTER.
**
Smile when you want to smile,
Be silent if you want to be,
Dress the way you want to dress,
Be who you want to be,
*
And be free to love who you will love.
**
Nobody controls you.
**
I am not the victim.
YOU ARE NOT THE VICTIM
SO BELIEVE THAT YOU WILL SURVIVE.
**
You will survive
And you are not the victim.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Self Portrait
Self portrait, done under the constrains that it must be painted in an environment or space of which I have no prior attachment or history with, it may only be painted in multiple two hour sittings, and must be painted from a small vanity mirror. This allowed me to delve deeper into my own thought cycles to address a pain of my cousin who passed away and the ephemeral nature of my life the year following.
Mapping My Personal Journey
Each of the three pages has text in, around, and covered amongst it, displaying the layered and often convuluted and covered nature in which the map and narrative of my life has become. Therefore I am providing a typed piece of the main chunk of the text amongst the three pieces:
I found myself breathing in the fresh Ohio air in the month of August of 1990. The Reds were about to win the World Series and the two who had made the crazy decision to give my life a chance were in for a long and convoluted journey. Cincinnati became something of a two faced coin, I loved it as home, but hated it as for its limitations. It wouldn’t be until much later in my life that I would find out how that hate was never for that beautiful city, but spawned of a misunderstanding and ignorance of the culture in which I was brought up in. The hills, oh how I miss the hills, sprawling far and deep, creating the vast caverns of the Ohio valley. It would be in these hills that I would truly find peace and home. Life would take me far and near, to lands such as South Africa, Florida, and currently Chicago, but Ill never forget those beautiful hills. They brought me in when no one else would; they gave me shelter, food, and kindred love. They stood tall, seven guardians of the city of which I proclaim my first love. Perhaps some day I will be able to repay my debt to those hills, perhaps someday they will want me back.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Mapping Personal Terrain
Chris Givens
Art of Crossing the Street
Personal Terrain Mapping
I was born and raised in Montclair NJ, a little suburb 12 miles west of Manhatten. The town like many suburbs has parks and the like but also has some county and state parks/ wild life reserves.
As a kid, I truly embraced nature, it was new, it was exciting, my imagination made it so that it was new every time, one day it’s foggy and I’m on Endor with a lightsaber, next day I’m with monkey’s in trees, if it’s really hot suddenly I’m with Indiana Jones. Then winter was even better, as a child interested in art, snow was the greatest thing ever for sculpting, and nature provides you with a near limitless amount of snow to sculpt with. Igloos, snow men, forts, snow balls, caves, anything was possible, once again I could be back in Star Wars, on Hoth with Luke (a lot of my childhood was defined by my obsession with Star Wars). But, slowly, as I grew up, I got lazier, my imagination wasn’t as whimsical as it once was, instead of making up my own adventures, I’d watch more movies, TV, read comics, and play video games. I stayed inside, got fatter, got paler, and lost a connection with nature.
That is until freshman year of high school. A new form of nature was introduced to me, this new form of nature unlocked that connection I used to have with nature as a whole. Marijuana brought me back to nature, for one to use it, it’s easiest to be outside,
and afterwords, that childlike wonderment of nature is brought back.
Mills Reservation. The smoke spot. Mills was a County Park/Reserve a few blocks from my house, and right behind my friend Charlie’s house. It was mostly forest land with paths and the like through it, but their were also large cliffs that over looked the Manhattan skyline, and our whole town. This place was magical, days, nights, hell even mornings, Mills was always there, always mysterious, always epic, and always a safe place to smoke weed.
I don’t want to be a stupid stoner or anything but quite seriously, the high from weed literally cast the world in a new light, suddenly lying in the grass made sense. Lying there watching the clouds go by, you slowly start to fade into the scene no longer are you just in a park, but your part of nature, the grass grows around you, the trees shoot up around you, nature was no longer just what wasn’t inside, it was part of you and you were part of it. The way the leaves blow, the way the light hits them, everything was beautiful, all framed by your vision. Hanging out in the park, pick up games of soccer, smoking in the shack in the woods off of the train tracks by the high school, standing on top of the falls in Cedar Grove, frisbee in the park instead of calculus, parties in back yards, nature made a heavy reentry into my life those 4 years.
Now, I’m here in Chicago, all blue, black, and grey. The only touch of nature I see is the lake (surrounded by cement) and Millennium Park, so sterile and well guarded it feels less like nature and more like an experimental green house (and I don’t mean that in a positive way). For now I just plot my return into nature, planning adventures to my grandfather’s cabin, camping with my brother, all from my dorm room looking outside to the freezing cold grey.
Art of Crossing the Street
Personal Terrain Mapping
I was born and raised in Montclair NJ, a little suburb 12 miles west of Manhatten. The town like many suburbs has parks and the like but also has some county and state parks/ wild life reserves.

As a kid, I truly embraced nature, it was new, it was exciting, my imagination made it so that it was new every time, one day it’s foggy and I’m on Endor with a lightsaber, next day I’m with monkey’s in trees, if it’s really hot suddenly I’m with Indiana Jones. Then winter was even better, as a child interested in art, snow was the greatest thing ever for sculpting, and nature provides you with a near limitless amount of snow to sculpt with. Igloos, snow men, forts, snow balls, caves, anything was possible, once again I could be back in Star Wars, on Hoth with Luke (a lot of my childhood was defined by my obsession with Star Wars). But, slowly, as I grew up, I got lazier, my imagination wasn’t as whimsical as it once was, instead of making up my own adventures, I’d watch more movies, TV, read comics, and play video games. I stayed inside, got fatter, got paler, and lost a connection with nature.
That is until freshman year of high school. A new form of nature was introduced to me, this new form of nature unlocked that connection I used to have with nature as a whole. Marijuana brought me back to nature, for one to use it, it’s easiest to be outside,
and afterwords, that childlike wonderment of nature is brought back.
Mills Reservation. The smoke spot. Mills was a County Park/Reserve a few blocks from my house, and right behind my friend Charlie’s house. It was mostly forest land with paths and the like through it, but their were also large cliffs that over looked the Manhattan skyline, and our whole town. This place was magical, days, nights, hell even mornings, Mills was always there, always mysterious, always epic, and always a safe place to smoke weed.
I don’t want to be a stupid stoner or anything but quite seriously, the high from weed literally cast the world in a new light, suddenly lying in the grass made sense. Lying there watching the clouds go by, you slowly start to fade into the scene no longer are you just in a park, but your part of nature, the grass grows around you, the trees shoot up around you, nature was no longer just what wasn’t inside, it was part of you and you were part of it. The way the leaves blow, the way the light hits them, everything was beautiful, all framed by your vision. Hanging out in the park, pick up games of soccer, smoking in the shack in the woods off of the train tracks by the high school, standing on top of the falls in Cedar Grove, frisbee in the park instead of calculus, parties in back yards, nature made a heavy reentry into my life those 4 years.
Now, I’m here in Chicago, all blue, black, and grey. The only touch of nature I see is the lake (surrounded by cement) and Millennium Park, so sterile and well guarded it feels less like nature and more like an experimental green house (and I don’t mean that in a positive way). For now I just plot my return into nature, planning adventures to my grandfather’s cabin, camping with my brother, all from my dorm room looking outside to the freezing cold grey.
Recycling Alter
Chris Givens
Recycling Alter
I’ve been interested in appropriated or found art lately, I made an installation of leaves hanging from fishing line, and soon plan on creating furniture out of found objects outside. So while contemplating those projects in my room I look over at my recycling bin, over flowing, what could fit a Dia de Los Muertos assignment better than recycling, it is a modern day functional alter to death an rebirth in everyday life. You may try and pass this off as trash, an everyday object but, we are in a green movement now a days, where people show off and try and be greener than the next guy. Recycling logos are all over the place, restaurants and other establishments advertise that they recycle and reuse, and recycling bins are scattered around everywhere in shades of bright green and blue, they are almost just as much for show, as they are for their utility. As a society we tend to these alters daily; we give them or old, they come back as new, as a functional alter to reusability they succeed in spurring a green movement. They stand for more than a band wagon to hop on, each object that enters enters with a small death, and represents rebirth in a digestible and practical sense that we can grasp in our daily lives [plastic, glass, and metal leave and come back in new forms], it is truly a functional realistic alter for Dia De Los Muertos.
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