Kelly Akashi
Opening reception Sunday, November 22, 6-8pm
November 22, 2015 – January 10, 2016

You are the Objects that grew up around Me for the past few years. I  named you My Alphabet and hung you on the wall as a relic of last year. You are scorched and broken like our world. 
I starved your fire by means of a thumb screw. It cut off your oxygen,  made your whole body flush metallic purple. Now that we’re bigger we  can’t do that. My breath won’t be able to puncture your skin like  before.

Remember when I saw your long fingernails and thought you’d be down  for the moment… I made a river of silver like a mercury mirror. It  formed into three intertwining hands that stand in place of our  adolescence — our table top activities. You reminded me that I’m  holding on to a fabricated past, and that onlytrash and junk last  forever since they’re damaged by fault. 
The first breasts I saw weren’t yours — they were in a pamphlet from a soft-core French stage show. They were painted with spirals and cast  in purple light, arching backwards in line with her spine, framed by a  copper hoop.   
Can’t help but love to watch you grow. I was your mother after all. 
People think you are fragile and poetic but they don’t understand that you are weeping with time. You are a monument to yourself, like the  body of a cavern. 
What if they resurrect me 300 years later, just because I made sure to  hang around. Just because I don’t understand the different between my  waste and my self. 
The greatest gift I can give you is the present, the erosion where the past and your path struggle to meet. It’s in your body right now, everything inside you, the experiences of our foremothers, accumulating until this moment. Where you and I were connected knots  shaped like melted ampersands remain.

The greatest gift is where metals and liquids won’t meet and erupt in  fractures. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen that made me question  why I ever thought anything was beautiful.
The first time I heard that smash, a glass vessel full of potential, I  never really knew what it could have been but I had ideas and  fantasies that I had to let go. 

Gotta learn to let go.

Kelly Akashi, Tomorrow, New York,