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Friday, August 4, 2023
the nightstar is where we are
Tuesday, July 11, 2023
Conversation between Window Artist Jobanny Cabrera and Artist Ryan Cardoso
Jobanny Cabrera, self-taught composer and producer, is a testament of what music and intentional evolution can do. Growing up between New York and Rhode Island, Cabrera’s taste is informed by Caribbean, classic rock, disco, and techno textures. After much begging, they finally received the gift of their first keyboard as a kid and diligently taught themselves to play at advanced levels. From then on, Jobanny has pioneered a path for themselves in the world of producing and composition. It wasn’t long before they made a name for themselves in their surrounding communities. By the age of 14, under the alias ``Multiplexxx” they released a project, Roachgrip, in which they broadened their collaborative network throughout and beyond New England. This was their final project before shedding the anonymous stage name and stepping into their truest name, deepening their musical breakthroughs. Since then, they have had numerous commissioned works and solo releases, leading up to their debut album Cabrera which is set to hit all streaming platforms in Spring 2023. As a lifelong learner and engineer-spirit, Jobanny embraces every part of the creative process. They are responsible for the majority of their album visuals, their own website design and even create their own hand-made merch. Jobanny’s embracement of sound mixture and genre bridging produces soundscapes fit for TV and film. Their unique sound and debut album is sure to impress and turn heads in the industry as we know it.
Jobanny was in the Dirt Palace Storefront Window Gallery this June - July. Below is a conversation between him and artist Ryan Cardoso.
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Ryan: So I feel like I always get these two things confused, knitting or crocheting? Which of the two is it that you do?
Jobanny: Crocheting. Crochet is just one needle, knitting is two. I crochet.
Ryan: When did you start crocheting?
Jobanny: I started crocheting as an idea to make people gifts. I think it was like two winters ago now, during Christmas I wanted to make people gifts instead of buying them, so I picked up crocheting cause I just like hats. I’ve always been interested in hats, even though I don’t wear them as much. I just love headpieces, so I wanted to make a piece for Ceila (my girlfriend), and that was the first piece I made, and the first piece I made I posted on instagram and I remember like 20 people hit me up like are you selling this? And I'm like no? But I can? And that's how it started, it really just became a hobby after that.
R: So like a hobby that turned into a profession?
J: Basically, a happy accident
R: Would you still say you still have love for crocheting and making hats? Or has the relationship changed now that it’s one of the ways you make money.
R: So then what would you say is your desired life for these hats if you aren't interested in making them and selling them instantly?
J: I'd like to keep them for a while and actually be able to display them in different stores and pop-ups. You know, just do pop-ups in general because I love to meet people and see everyone touch, feel, and wear them. My goal is less direct to consumers online, but first I have to build up inventory and right now I'm trying to find a second person to do it with me but it's hard to find someone who wants to make hats and sell them under my name. I'm trying to find a balance, maybe I can find someone's grandmother out there to help me make them.
R: Did you have your mother or someone in your family when you were younger who used to make you clothes?
J: Naa…I grew up with no family in the states in general. When my mom came here from the Dominican Republic she came with just me, my sister, and my brother at the time and we were all infants. My mom came here by herself. We don't have any family around here, so nobody ever made me clothes. I kind of just started making things by myself. I was always by myself so I started trying things alone.
Was there anyone making/doing art? Who was the first person in your family to show you that?
J: My moms a singer, she loved singing and she always made music. Music is my main thing, I think that's what I first gravitated to and it was because my mom. She was always singing and dancing in the living room and that just got my interest, and everything else just went from there, making art and all of that.
R: Would you say that music is your main medium and everything else is secondary?
J: Right now it feels like they are all at the same level. Music has kind of taken a back-step in my life right now because I just released my album and that was a lot. I released that project and now i'm focused on sharpening up my 3-D skills, the crocheting just trying to make all of those things. I'm just trying to find a balance in all of those things and still working a 9-5.
R: So you just released your album ‘CABRERA” in April 2023, what would you say was the biggest challenge on that project?
J: Well because the project was a collaborative album, I had like 8 features on it. Just making sure everyone stayed on task was the most difficult part, and just actually making sure the songs got finished. I produced a lot of the album like 4 to 3 years ago, so the production was already done but everybody getting their features recorded, re-recording, feedback, just making sure things sounded good, getting the money to go in the studio, mixing and recording….you know all of that was the most difficult part. Just finalizing everything and making sure it was all at the same level.
R: Thinking about how these two mediums relate (music and fashion) for you, each song has like 2-4 artists on it vs when you are in the studio making these hats. I'm imagining it's just you working on them. Do you prefer to work with others or do you prefer to work alone?
J: I prefer to work alone. I have always worked alone my whole life and I love being by myself. The challenge with the album was that I really wanted to step outside of my comfort zone and work with people and see it through. I'm happy the album came out, but now that it's out I really just want to focus on me, myself and I. That's really what I am going to work on for the next year, just working on solo projects.
R: If you see yourself working alone more, where do you see your hats going in a year? Do you want to stay at making hats or make other things also?
J: I want to expand, my goal is to make dresses. I think dresses are a beautiful canvas to make something really big on. I'm starting with hats because hats are easy, and also gives me the technique and practice of sitting down and working on something for 5 hours consistently. I’ve only crocheted 1 dress, and that took me like 3 months where it takes me about 4 hours to make a hat. So my goal is to eventually build up to making dresses and place them in galleries, and then still do pop-ups after.
Do you think of your hats as merchandise or fine art?
J: Definitely fine art
The window install is so exciting to pass-by, all of the colors and patterns. When you are making these hats are you imaging specific people wearing them or are you just coming up with random colorways?
J: Most of the time it just depends on what color yarns I have. I'm learning more about yarn in general and that depending on the color, changes the quality of yarns so most of the time I don't have the option to use what I want, I just have to work with whatever is available. Sometimes I'll get a color for a hat and then not see it for another six months, so my rotation just depends on what's available. But when I think about making dresses I'm definitely making it with who's wearing it in mind. I want to make them for my friends. I never want to think about making them for strangers. Even if it's me making it for a specific person and then it ends up getting sold to the public.
R: You want to have the control of knowing where the garments end life is.
J: Yes, the past 20 hats I've sold I don't know who owns them. Usually the hats are bought for friends, so it never ends where I expect
R: If you had to pick a colorway to live by, what would it be?
J: Earthtones! I'm an earth sign and I love earth tones. I'm just always wearing green or muted colors. But in the hats, it's the one time I get to play with colors, I don't wear a lot of colorful things but the hats are that outlet.
Do you have an interest in fashion or do you just enjoy making hats?
J: I really don't follow fashion, I just wear what's comfortable to me. I think as I've gotten older I've gotten into it more. Growing up I used to always get bullied for the stuff I would wear, and most of the time it was just what I liked and felt good in so it never made sense to me so I have a love-hate-relationship with fashion because of that. Clothes frustrate me. I’m more into style.
J: I’m also conscious of how things are made so whenever I see something that's overpriced I'm always like ‘this is some bullshit, I'm not going to buy this cheaply made thing.’
Do you see things and think ‘I'm gonna go home and make this.’?
J: Yes all the time
R: I see the Dirt Palace window installation as like a department store or Macy’s store front. Do you have a memorable moment with clothes or shopping from when you were younger?
J: I think all of my memorable shopping moments were with my older brother when he would take me once a year to buy my shoes for the entire school year (that one pair of sneakers). I remember always going to the sneaker store and just picking out the shoes that I liked, that my family never liked. I would always choose the sneaker that they hated on and I would always look good when I put them on and get compliments on them. That's always been the thing in my life, people seeing things that they thought were funny, but when I wore it they would change their mind.
R: You are very generous when it comes to sharing your tools skills, and resources, how important is it to work in community?
J: It's something I really care about. Throughout my life I’ve had mentors, when I was younger I worked at the Boys & Girls Club and had this manager who was really like my best friend. He committed suicide when I was really young and that changed my life. Since then I've always been generous because of how generous he was with me. He really was working with everyone, giving access to his studio, helping my family with rent for one month, and even helped us replace our boiler despite how little he had. Learning from him I couldn't not be generous with what I have.
R: Looking at your website, it feels like you are interested in having a story to every project and job you do. Are you always interested in the behind the scenes?
J: I'm a behind the scenes kind of guy. I love going through people's work and seeing how they got there. I don't share everything, but I like to be clear how I got there, because how I got there might not look the same as the next person so why not be honest about that.
R: The Dirt Palace window installation is by your studio, how does it feel to see it everyday when you are driving by?
J: Honestly, it makes me feel weird, It feels like I’m dissociating, like who did this, who made this? It wasn't me. But the more I pass by it I feel happy, especially seeing it at night all lit up. I'm able to see that it's good work the more I get comfortable with it. I don’t realize the amount of work I put into something until after, and now I'm able to see it and be like ‘woah I did that’ which feels good.
What's the after life of your hats and where can people find you?
J: After Dirt-Palace I'm planning to have a pop-up at Providence Place Mall to sell them, and from there they will be on sale on my website. I want to push all the hats through pop-ups maybe even at my studio. In general people can always just reach out to me and ask me about commissions or hats that I've already made. I'm always down to make customs, but usually I love to just make a bunch of hats and send them out into the world.
Ryan Cardoso is a visual artist exploring portraiture through photography and filmmaking and its importance in archiving the elegance, domesticity, and relationships of black life.
https://www.instagram.com/ryanac/
Tuesday, June 27, 2023
Conversation between Artist Hernán Jourdan and Archivist/Writer Matthew Lawrence
“This personal map is charted from postcards i collected across our continent. “Frames” was made in tandem with the writing of “North By South”, a literary experiment after journeying across South and North America, chronicles from a continent that feels connected but disjointed at the same time. Both pieces speak to the experience of a queer hitchhiker and the collective consciousness I found on the way. It’s bilingual travel literature with confessions you’d find in a diary –after suffering a family crisis. It’s a way to look at this land, the borders established in it, and the nature of our migratory movements. These are maps of routes across the Southern and Northern hemispheres but also, a written exercise towards healing”.
Below is a conversation between hernán and writer, scholar, artist Matthew Lawrence
ML: Your piece includes a large map of the Americas, where South America is on the left and the United States is on the right. It seems like there’s a certain freedom to be gained – maybe just creatively but maybe more than that, too – from redrawing maps and national boundaries. Can you talk a little about maps as an art form and why you chose this format for this particular piece?
HJ: So the piece grew as I was writing of my experiences moving from one place to another. And I think that I needed to graphically represent, to somehow see those spaces collide in some way. I needed to see those spaces existing on the same plane, on the same surface, and add to that my own body—the limits of my own body—as a way to articulate how intertwined all of that is to me. I think maps, as a tool, definitely have colonialist implications: how we understand territory and how we make it accessible to ourselves. That being said, I think they hold a symbolic power that, to me as a creator, allows me to articulate thoughts and explore my own experience with them.
That aside, there is some kind of politics that becomes present when we position the north above the south, and I think history—at least recent history—confirms those power dynamics, those politics, which I want to challenge. That's present in me all of the time when I look at maps. My intention in this particular piece was not necessarily to challenge those politics, but rather to bring them closer to me as someone who is affected by them.
ML: You’re from Argentina, but this piece for me recalls the Chilean artist Juan Downey. Both Chile and Argentina had extremely grim dictatorships later in the twentieth century, both of which were supported by the United States. Downey’s work from the 1970s is rather optimistic, with swirls of color replacing national boundaries. Your work in a sense does the opposite, in one instance making clear the legal distinctions between countries in South America. You’ve traveled extensively, so could you talk a bit about the realities of national borders in places you’ve been, and specifically how you’ve seen that impact the people there?
HJ: What I can say about national boundaries is fairly limited to my own experience traveling. And it’s interesting that Juan Downey is being brought up because his piece in which different colors swirl around the landmass of South America actually coincides with an earlier piece that I have made in which, again, colors are merging into one another, disregarding any political boundaries. And I think that speaks to the understanding I have of those boundaries being merely political. And of course it’s no small thing.
But there is another type of how different regions exist and establish identity, which is more regional and sometimes a lot more blurry. Less clear, way more heterogeneous. The Northwest of Argentina has a lot more in common with the neighboring country of Bolivia than it does, perhaps, with other areas of Argentina. In fact, when I was about to cross the border from La Quiaca, which is Argentina, to the border town Villazón in Bolivia, I remember there is one path for people like me who are not from the area and are just passing through. And then there’s a separate path altogether, a bridge over a small river that is traveled by locals. And you can see how fluidly people use that bridge to go from one place to the other. So different boundaries are in place for different people. From what I saw it seemed like it was one order overriding another order, and that only made sense for people needing to attain their legality or stamp from the immigration office –not for people running daily errands. So borders become relevant according to who needs to go through them, I guess. I say this to enhance the idea that borders are fluid in my experience. There’s a legal order that also is there, but that’s not the only one, and I would say it works to the advantage of a lot of people that there are alternative ways of navigating those spaces.
ML: On your website you describe this project as “bilingual travel literature with confessions you’d find in a diary after suffering a family crisis”, and I found myself wondering whether the crisis was the family discovering the diary or whether it was the crisis that came first and inspired the diary writing. Is this a diary that’s secretly meant to be discovered? Or is it really a personal project where you aren’t thinking about who’s seeing it?
HJ: So the diary grows from the experiences I had after a family crisis, so it follows that episode of trauma as a way to cope with it, understand it better, and heal from it. It’s also interesting to think about who might read the diary. It’s definitely a personal project, but I am thinking about who might read it, although it’s funny that I am writing this in English and my mother tongue is Spanish, and I would say most of my family would not be able to read the diary completely in English. And that actually feels like it would be an important piece of the healing process, to have my family members encounter this writing and reading it.
But I think there’s another piece to it that articulates some of the politics I was describing earlier, that makes it necessary for me to make that translation into English and to speak directly to the people who live in this country, who use English as their main language. So I have positioned myself strategically in the tongue of what I think is the oppressor, so that I can communicate directly with it. It is something that I am still trying to understand fully and unravel. But I think the riddle has to do with who’s the actual oppressor and if it is located within my family, or if it’s rooted somewhere else. And by approaching this other language, I am somehow trying to convince myself that I’m addressing it. And maybe that’s what feels necessary for me to do in this moment.
ML: I spent a while in front of the window reading the piece, and thinking about the use of Spanish and English text at a literal intersection where some people are monolingual English speakers and some are monolingual Spanish speakers. Your piece feels extremely personal, but who were you picturing as your audience when you installed this window?
HJ: I touched a bit on this just now, but I have to be honest: I don’t think I have a very clear sense of who the audience is. And it’s something that happens to me a lot when I am creating because I’m often unsure! And it’s a bit of a moot point because a lot of people, for example on the [art] funding-side want to know, they ask that question in grant applications, but I just find that so difficult sometimes because it seems that it’s based on assumptions of who’s going to be interested. And I can never know who’s going to be interested. A woman who is 54 might take interest in it or a trans person who is 16 might take interest in it, and I don’t have a desire to limit that.
Furthermore, as I was saying at the beginning, the piece was helping me navigate and chart a territory that was very confusing to me because of the traumatic experience of a family crisis. So I was using it as an aid, as a way to help. I think that’s the most honest answer I can give.
ML: The form and writing in this piece feel very spontaneous and intuitive. What did creating this work mean for you personally? And could you talk for a minute about the physical development of this piece? Were there tests and concept drawings? Or did it all spill out to some extent?
HJ: Yes. I think that’s worth pausing and looking at. The piece grew as something unplanned, something out of need. I hold the belief that art has that power that helps us articulate what needs to be said externally, so that we can somehow address landscapes that might be internal. So, all the time, I think that there’s an exercise of transmutation with it. Perhaps other folks approach their art making with more tests, but that wasn’t my approach. I was following a process that was personal, which is the writing of these experiences and not relying on premeditation or plans to execute the piece.
ML: An extension of the prior question, what drove you to share this piece publicly? A bit of the imagery and a chunk of the text is very sexual, and I found myself devising a narrative behind your journey all around the two continents. But there’s also an explicit narrative of trauma, though I don’t think the trauma itself is stated directly.
HJ: Sharing this piece publicly comes from both an invitation from the Dirt Palace, but also from a personal desire to share the work that I’m doing. I have been very intentional recently about sharing more of the things that I do. Because I often don’t. I often keep a lot of processes to myself and, in my experience, it takes a lot of time for something to be presented to other folks. Perhaps because once I do that, I feel like the piece reaches the end of its cycle. And so maybe there’s something in there actually that I don’t want to let go of. I want to keep invested and engaged with whatever piece is at hand. So I perhaps involuntarily or unconsciously refrain from that end of the cycle. But there’s definitely moments in which I think that it’s worth sharing and worth putting out there. And that I think, hopefully multiplies the power that the creative process can have. And based on the conversations that I’ve had since this piece is up, I received a lot of positive energy, a lot of interactions happened because of it. And I’m thankful for that. Very grateful for that and for the opportunity to show the work.
And to the other point of the piece being sexually explicit, I guess that trajectory one could put together from looking at it. It is absolutely autobiographical, self-referential, so there’s no hiding there. And I think because it responds to my own need for making sense of my circumstances, I just followed what I felt like was needed for that based on the things that were happening to me, and how I went about addressing this trauma.
The explicit sexual images are very much a part of the family crisis that I experienced. And it’s something that receives a lot of inhibition from a lot of people. Taboos. And I don't think that makes it easier to talk about the things that need to be discussed. That’s my personal opinion. However, again, sexuality was key to the experiences I had. So it felt like it was a way for me to address it and call it into the picture.
ML: You describe both yourself and your work as queer, which I (also queer) noticed quickly but which others may find a more subtle theme. Is the queerness of your work essential to understanding it? Or do you prefer to offer your audiences multiple entry points?
HJ: My take on the queerness of the piece is almost an afterthought, in the sense that I know queer is the term that better describes my sexuality and my experience of being in this world and engaging with other people on different levels. But I think it comes after my experience. In other words, there’s a tree and then we come up with the word tree for it. And I don’t think the tree cares much what it’s called.
I think it’s similar to my experience in a way, and thinking otherwise can perhaps lend itself to limitations and confusions. I think, perhaps, I am interested in the term queer even because it enhances, creates a more nuanced spectrum for identity than words like gay may allow for. I think the term gay for me has come to actually speak to a very particular identity that I don’t actually identify with so much.
And perhaps it’s similar with my work. I can only think about it in queer terms if I put it at the same level in which I am considering how nuanced the experience of a queer person can be. And how personal it is also. And I think the piece has that, in the sense that it has its own experience to it. In a very stubborn way, it refuses to be prescribed limits. It talks about limits, it talks about boundaries, but it juxtaposes them. I don’t want to do too much explaining, but it is saying that the experience that I’m able to have transcends those clear delimitations. And I think to an extent that’s similar to what terminology I use to describe myself or the work I do. Those things, I think, come at a later stage. In other words, I need to first have my own experience, then find the words to communicate it to others. And some of the beauty of relying on visual media is that I don’t necessarily have to lean on words. Although I do—quite a lot here—but that’s not the only way of creating meaning that’s available to me.
ML: This isn’t specifically about your window, but you have a sailboat, La Luna, that you have been refurbishing and using for spoken/video pieces. Providence is the waterfront city that refuses to accept that it’s a waterfront city.
HJ: Okay, so Luna definitely is an invitation to the waterfront. Intentionally. It’s the way that I can articulate space that is otherwise sometimes even neglected, right? And a place where we, as constituents of Providence, as inhabitants of this area, send things to die and to forget. We think of the water or the ocean as a space that can receive things and we can forget about them. Residue. Everything drains into the ocean and somehow we expect that as a consequence it disappears from our sight, almost with very little account of what happens to that afterwards. But nothing really gets lost.
It’s interesting that you say this city does not acknowledge its waterfront because I have not thought about it that way. But it very much coincides with my home city, the place I understand as home which is Buenos Aires, which is a very big city that is built with its back to the Rio de la Plata river basin that is right next to it. So definitely a separate endeavor altogether from the one we were addressing, but I feel like in order to start talking about it and confronting it and countering it, we need to be situated close to it. We need to bring ourselves to it. And perhaps even experience submission to something that is bigger than ourselves and something that to a great extent actually determines our well-being and survival.
ML: We’re talking just a few days after the expiration of Title 42, the COVID emergency policy that severely restricted immigration to the United States from land crossings in Mexico, but essentially from across Latin America. When developing your work, do you think at all about how it may react to developments and/or future world events?
HJ: I appreciate the mention of this context. Entry to the United States is regulated on very different levels, right? Not just as the border, but through visas that allow certain people to come in and out. And in order to obtain those visas, in a lot of cases you have to meet certain criteria that make the visas accessible only to folks who can comply with the terms that this country imposes for other people to go through. All the time, I’m thinking about how my piece engages in that conversation.
I think perhaps one of the reasons why this particular topic is hot, for me and perhaps other people, is because it articulates a lot of struggle from one side, one that the powers who impose this order negate and refuse to acknowledge –while having a degree of responsibility to it. So there's a breach in conversation, and there’s a big gap in terms of what this country needs to do so that people can heal. Because everything that happens at the borders of this country is dictated by the histories that precede us, and the power dynamics that have been established, and continue to play out to this day. So it seems very important to examine those circumstances in order to talk about it properly.
I think it’s also very important to look at how human rights may be violated by the strong restrictions that are imposed on accessing this country. Human rights in terms of the right for a home, the right for safety, the right to establish a family, the right to seek asylum. And a lot of those things are negated with the current structures, to keep people from entering this country or rather to control the circumstances in which they do, and use that situation to favor the prevailing powers of this country. At the same time, there’s a narrative that places perceived danger on the well-being of the people who are already in this country, and that seems to make people turn against each other instead of harboring compassion and understanding.
I think in order to properly address this flow and this traveling across a territory, we need to be looking at exactly what is being accomplished. And what is being accomplished speaks directly to what this country’s priorities might be. In other words, look at the conditions of the people that are allowed to be here. There’s people with “ankle monitors”, devices that they are not allowed to take off so they can be tracked while they are waiting to be called into court –very similar to how systems of exploitation work. Looking at “what is being accomplished” means looking at the circumstances people are weathering because of the policies in place.
I also feel like it’s important to say that every story of coming into this country might be different. But once again I want to come back to the point of the people in the US needing to address something that they are negating, a piece of history that they are negating, and that they have been instrumental in constructing. So long as people don’t open up to the things that need to be talked about, it’s going to be very hard to find harmony and understanding among groups of people, and specifically to get close to an idea of healing for what has happened across boundaries.
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hernán jourdan explores the wealth of hybrid identities through video, performance and writing. Born in Argentina, he trained as a theater artist (EMBA, EMAD) and completed Film & Video studies at the School of Tokyo Visual Arts, in Japan, as a scholarship recipient of the Japanese Ministry of Education. He hitchhiked extensively across South America before immigrating to Providence in 2014, and for the chronicles of this journey hernán was awarded a MacColl Johnson Fellowship (2021).Over the last few years in Rhode Island, hernán has devised plays (“La Despedida” RI Devised Theater Festival); installations (“Un Vacío lleno de Gente”, RISD Museum); and served as collaborator (Strange Attractor, Manton Avenue Project, Studio Loba). In the role of cultural producer, he has worked with the Providence Department of Art, Culture + Tourism (“PVDFest”); the Artists Communities Alliance (“EPI” & annual conference); and has coordinated documentaries in Patagonia and Antarctica.
In 2021 he founded the Ministry of Future Access to facilitate collective learning opportunities at no-cost to participants while advocating for fair pay to local artists, partnering with the Community Libraries of Providence (“Arte y Vecindario”) and the Rhode Island State Council on the Arts (“Life & Editing in Art”). Among other honors, hernán is a New England Creative Community Fellow (NAS, 2022); a past writer-in-residency of Studios at MassMoCA (2021); and a recent grantee of the Public Art Learning Fund (nefa, 2023) that supported his investigation of art and performance in public spaces in France. Learn more at www.hernanjourdan.com
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Matthew Lawrence is an archivist, writer, and magazine editor currently living in Providence. He has a Masters in Information Studies from McGill University and a Bachelor of Arts and Anthropology from Rhode Island College. He co-edits the queer art journal Headmaster and is currently working with Jason Tranchida on Scandalous Conduct, a multi-year project about the 1919 Newport Sex Scandal.
Lawrence edited Law and Order Party, a curated email-based guide to art events happening in Rhode Island. The newsletter included 262 weekly issues from 2015 - 2020, as well as a popular annual summer guide. In 2019, Lawrence’s hybrid fiction/video essay was part of the digital catalog Raid the Icebox Now with Nicole Eisenman: Tonight we are going out and we are all getting hammered, which accompanied Eisenman’s exhibition at the RISD Museum. His writing has also appeared in a number of regional art publications as well as The New Inquiry, The Guardian, and Salon.
Lawrence edited Law and Order Party, a curated email-based guide to art events happening in Rhode Island. The newsletter included 262 weekly issues from 2015 - 2020, as well as a popular annual summer guide. In 2019, Lawrence’s hybrid fiction/video essay was part of the digital catalog Raid the Icebox Now with Nicole Eisenman: Tonight we are going out and we are all getting hammered, which accompanied Eisenman’s exhibition at the RISD Museum. His writing has also appeared in a number of regional art publications as well as The New Inquiry, The Guardian, and Salon.
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