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"Remote Castration" irrupting on city as graffiti which is like the subconscious's nocturnal emission, perhaps conjuring "Remote Viewing", sending Lorena Bobbit by dream, like a Freddy sorta Scissor-hands to snip the membership to patriarchy. I like this definition since the exhibition's abundance of drawing, which always felt like a means of pulling from the subconscious a diagram to send like a telegraph in to consciousness of another person. Drawing is like schematics for trojan horses that the viewer erects in their head. Painting is an object outside you but drawing form inside you, feeling a lot more like writing: equations building images, sending Ms. Bobbit inside your head where she stands ready, you can see the hole you get fucked through.
