Montevidayo Consumer Survey: Face-Eating Art

by on Feb.28, 2011

Montevidayans, identify yourself by aggregate by taking our first ever Montevidayo Consumer Survey. This week’s topic: Face-Eating Art.

1. Has Art Eaten Your Face?

2. How frequently in the last month has Art eaten your Face?

3. What should I do if Art eats my Face?

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Author-Pic-Hawkey-Trakl

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7 comments for this entry:
  1. Jen

    Hi, Joyelle,

    (1 & 2:) Art eats my face all day every day! As a point of contact with text and the world, the face registers and projects curiosity and terror (if we’re steeping in/seeping in the poem, threads of text–vectors of terror, might infiltrate like tapeworms and exit through our gape—“new masticating/speaking heads” as you suggest). The face then, is simultaneously animated and deadened by the text in its engagement and resistance (a kind of half/double-breathing possession). In Ventrakl, one of the definitions offered for “hole” is “the suspicion that one’s face is being erased in the act of kissing.” This definition fascinates me because this means the hole works both ways (as a kind of portal?): kissing, an act of intimacy, exerts an external pressure, while the suspicion—a kind of brain matter glitch, exerts an internal pressure– and the two meet at the point of facial contortion /spasm. The face, as a surface and point of contact–absence and intimacy–or intensity, is pumiced by the text (or pumices the text—a wearing away, a lapping of tongues) and experiences/exerts a necessary friction. The image, as you write, “emerges when the surface oversaturates”—and the holes on the surface of the photograph in your last post produce a kind of residue or stain. When art eats my face, then, it’s pocked with abscesses!

    In Cathy Wagner’s “OH,” she writes, “Between you and me is chestbone. / No meshing / So eat my face for hours// If a poem is active/ Its action aborts in you.” In my host-host relationship with art, this action/abortion produces a serious kind of infestation. (3: If art eats your face, bit back).

  2. Jen

    Hi, Joyelle,

    (1 & 2:) Art eats my face all day every day! As a point of contact with text and the world, the face registers and projects curiosity and terror (if we’re steeping in/seeping in the poem, threads of text–vectors of terror, might infiltrate like tapeworms and exit through our gape—“new masticating/speaking heads” as you suggest). The face then, is simultaneously animated and deadened by the text in its engagement and resistance (a kind of half/double-breathing possession). In Ventrakl, one of the definitions offered for “hole” is “the suspicion that one’s face is being erased in the act of kissing.” This definition fascinates me because this means the hole works both ways (as a kind of portal?): kissing, an act of intimacy, exerts an external pressure, while the suspicion—a kind of brain matter glitch, exerts an internal pressure– and the two meet at the point of facial contortion /spasm. The face, as a surface and point of contact–absence and intimacy–or intensity, is pumiced by the text (or pumices the text—a wearing away, a lapping of tongues) and experiences/exerts a necessary friction. The image, as you write, “emerges when the surface oversaturates”—and the holes on the surface of the photograph in your last post produce a kind of residue or stain. When art eats my face, then, it’s pocked with abscesses!

    In Cathy Wagner’s “OH,” she writes, “Between you and me is chestbone. / No meshing / So eat my face for hours// If a poem is active/ Its action aborts in you.” In my host-host relationship with art, this action/abortion produces a serious kind of infestation. (3: If art eats your face, bite back).

  3. adam strauss

    Q1: Art has not eaten my face, though sometimes it makes me very excited. I suppose if art did eat my face I’d go make an appointment with a surgeon or embrace a scrimmed lifestyle.

    q2: not applicable

    q3: I’d “say” it depends on who “you” are. If I ever get face-eaten by art, my response would likely be to write a poem.

  4. JT

    Art ate my face last nite.

    and it ate it three times in [RED MISSED ACHES RED MISTAKES READ MISSED ACHES READ MISTAKES]

    http://www.actionyes.org/issue14/tamayo/permanent-resident-card-pop.jpg

    actually art ate face like it was its job in [READ MISTAKES]. it was so full of face that it started puking faces on anything it could find.

    I would say that in the year 2010 art ate my face close to 36 times. sometimes so violently i felt like it was permanently gone and i’d wear a head bag for days. but my face always grew back in the same form. there was no helping it. and sometimes it ate my face without me knowing it. so subtly i couldn’t tell the difference.

    there are times, however, when i’m not sure who’s eating who. who’s doing the gnawing. (i’m thinking of the ventrakl image with the dots). which one is being obliterated?

    or, as in the outline of my face in [RM]– was art hoping to eat and my face just didn’t show up to the occasion. the sutures outlining its hunger.

    http://www.actionyes.org/issue14/tamayo/a-fade-from-pop.jpg

    face just seems to have a propensity toward being consumed. gape meets gape. like last nite when i was being photographed and the lens was a black hole sucking me in. (and this i mean almost literally since the lens was long and maw-like and really close)… and I let it. knowing it was erasing me somehow.

    if art eats your face, joyelle– i say let it. become undefinable. obscured. obliterated. eaten out. monstrous. inhuman. abject. object. it’s actually kind of soothing.

  5. Carina Finn

    1. the first time art ate my face I was four & I wrote a poem called “the dog who cried ooh ha boo” & I was very much in love with it & walked around my house reciting it & then my parents’ computer crashed that same day & the poem was lost forever & then I discovered that art had eaten my face & since then I think I have been trying to resurrect that poem from the abyss which is my face mashed up & masticated by art.

    2. exactly one month ago today I was having a poetry freakout & gave myself permission to do nothing but write until I couldn’t write anymore & during that period of time art ate my face approximately 24 times per day & my face became infected from the constant biting & I vomitted all over art approximately every half hour & it was very messy & rancid & I had to have all of my things dry-cleaned & sanitized.

    3. do you (like bella in twilight) want to be bitten & achieve glamorous & blissful immortality? if so, you should seek out art & make out with it & simper & fret until it eats your face. if you do not desire immortality I recommend either vaccination or quarantine.

  6. Nick Demske

    all of these answers are so great and imaginative. i don’t feel I have all that much to offer. but there’s a poem in my book (joyelle, you at least i know had to read it) called “put your face in my tongue” which is just a description, for me, of reading a book. every time i read a book and stick my face inbetween the pages–which always for me has some aspect of escape or hiding, no matter what i’m reading–it feels like i’m putting my face in someone else’s words or mouth or something. so, i guess i get my face eaten by art at a high frequency, maybe 100 times in the last month, not sure.

    my only advice for someone who gets their face eaten by art would be to counter-eat some face. with your art. otherwise, what will you be left with?

    “don’t make me bite your face/ cause it ain’t like I like the taste.”

    (it’s more of a psychological thing)

    -vast aire