rearing down the clock





character 1, 2018, 4’x6’ 13oz scrim banner vinyl 



character 2, 2018, 4’x6’ 13oz scrim banner vinyl



character 3, 2018, 4’x6’ 13oz scrim banner vinyl



character 4, 2018, 4’x6’ 13oz scrim banner vinyl



character 5, 2018, 4’x6’ 13oz scrim banner vinyl



character 6, 2018, 4’x6’ 13oz scrim banner vinyl



character 7, 2018, 4’x6’ 13oz scrim banner vinyl



character 8, 2018, 4’x6’ 13oz scrim banner vinyl


2018 – ongoing, 13oz scrim banner vinyls printed at lifesize 4’x6’

i long for a box that has no walls and a box that has no solved hedge maze. ilong for the individual existence to find who one is, undetermined by any sort of figure one has already observed or definition one has already learned. ilong for a place where, at birth, one is not examined and then instructed to dress in a blue gown or a pink. rather, i prefer everyone can dance in a grey one. i long for a place where one is not born into one attitude or another, forcing them to pick a side but never giving them the choice. we are pushed out onto a field of gender and pressured to play as if there is a time limit. ilong to sit on the sidelines with my back to the game rather than play a part where winning is always the ultimate. i long for the costume i put on everyday to not have the repercussions of an attitude, and for my body to be just a vessel for my mind. this place i envision creates a space where one has nothing to look forward to and nothing to have doubts about because no limitations or standards are set upon them or their bodies. one has the power to decide who they are, and more importantly who they are not. one is given the full choice, regardless of their vagina, ear, or kneecap, because how they act is how they want and who they are has nothing to do with anything that has ever previously existed. this new class of existences is apart of the third team on the field, and the fourth and fifth and so on. they are the teams that have been long ignored but have played the game just the same.

running out the clock is a term used in sports when one team is ahead but toys with the other team because they know they might lose if they gave up possession. they retain that possession until the clock runs out and the game is complete. ilong to put an end to the toying on the field, and an end to the thought that once the clock stops so does the players’ role in the game. there should be and end to the thought that stepping off the field relieves you from further duties.

this place i long for is not one that can happen overnight, but it is one that can happen to the individual in a lifetime. it is a place that can happen over repeated cleansing of the split–second conclusions regarding another’s gender. this place will be able to encourage people to find their own inner box, knowing their box is way more than two choices could ever provide, because how could you fit all of you into a 10x10x10? it is a place where everyone has broken out of the hedge maze that was solved for them before they even had a thought to say otherwise. in this place, one can break free from starting at the so–called finish line regardless of whether there is a dead patch in the shrub of the maze and regardless of whether others understand them or not, because they know their self and what more would they need? i am in my own boxless box, my own world of one, my own team, and i extend an invitation to you, to find that too.




Mark