This Lent szn I’m really feeling not safe for work, in a lot of ways. I feel non-conforming, cornered out of communication—censored and radical in my approaches and attempt. I’ve been evolving trying to find a new channel, a new bloom to land on; but seemingly having to go away from the rivers and the lakes that I’m use to.

I have been exiling myself to search for new fields to harvest from. It sort of feels like I need a miracle—to turn water into wine. It has been hard to write words and I’m trying to explain; but I haven’t been able to smart my way through it. I realize I have to show it and do it.

Lent

This season is usually reserved for baptism and repentance, except I don’t have shit to be sorry for. Rather, in observance of the 40 days and 40 nights that this season marks I want to make miracles. I want to devolve into nothing and be born again. How the hell can one be born again? I want to be(cum) (Ibaorimi) . That is a miracle. It is the miracle of (de)creation.

I have been working with the big metal stick for a very elementary amount of time, but I have hit walls with the people who pole or who I have found myself trying to speak to. I’ve realized it’s time to put the pole in its place and to find people who see it, like I see it, as simply an apparatus— an object for activity. Who see the body and flesh as apparatus too. People who see apparatus in many objects and things.

Wasp’s Nest last  year was a symposium of talking and exhibiting.

Wasp’s Nest this year is a season of creating and exhibitionism; water birth and wine bathe.

I hope that you join me and my resident contributors this lent.

— Ashley S.