paper maché, fabric, chamoy, caribiner

mexico city, 2015

a park with a corporate sponsorship. Run laps in a state of rhythmic transcendence and find yourself craving a new pair of sneakers rather than a drop of water. Three days more running the same loop, new slick synthetic skins, moisture absorbing socks, polarized lenses.

A shreik jolts you from the trance. A smear of sticky red goo on your cheek. Spinning around to look at the perpetrator, you are astonished to discover a being floating above: matted brown hair, arms outstretched. Small black nose and bushy black brows. His tongue - it must be 9 ft long - is coated in the offending substance. Realizing it is a mixture of his saliva, spices, and some kind of sweet fruit, you lap it from your face, in hopes of attaining the same mischeivous glory as your new companion.

collaboration with Anne Kunsemiller, Luis Zamudio