Baby is Tindering in the parking lot

And is waiting to pick up the phone

A hurricane like the one that ruined us in 92

Is it is even possible that it would mean the world to her, to him

On a restaurant with a name misspelled on the sign

I only wish it was possible not to cross that time threshold

To be certain that the best way of thinking about romantics was simply grave - a grave with a cracked corner That a small New England town could forget

His memories of American parades and A's pronounced like "ah"
They named a street for a war that was won once
in Staten Island 

Or doo-wop on the radio, mishearing the lyrics
The lawless Manhattan Bridge


I feel sorry for you cattle rancher
I feel sorry for you teacher
I feel sorry for you refugee
I feel sorry for you newsman
I feel sorry for you press secretary

Middle class jockeying
Posturing for a picture with a perfect view of the bridge

Expect bad results


The predisqualification of accuracy

Predismissal of accuracy

Childhood fields and unknown fear

Seeing bare branches against blue sky

Too cold
Unknowingly unkind

As in unprotected

She soiled her pants and had to wear boys clothing

Fears of words that sounded like devil
Preempted biblical associations

Tougher talk on tackling terrorism too



I saw the babies
You saw the babies


There are no safe zones
We may disagree on this

Who called you?

Ranking member

We would green-light that
Certain discretions
He has latitude to do that
Unified foreign policy likes/seeks a reification of the refugee soul

"How do we bring the [X] conflict to an end?"





Everything is going to be fine
Can I get the last four digits of your social

Today I was asked if I am a career minded professional and do I want to grow?

Your bot is a battleground

Expat de-frat

There's a reason why we only drag her out at Christmas

He likes to walk the Bible
But I think there's peace in not knowing
Plus who wants to spend Easter in the desert



Il y avait quelquechose qui se plante de ces mots

Oui c'est la douleur de la vie
On est en train de souffrir
Et ces mots inutiles nous donnent les droits légales

On a se met dans la rue
On rie

On se met sous la troue
Mais on peut rire

Il yavait quelqu'un qu'on ne peut pas regarder
Il vit encore

On bois
On regard

Qu'est ce qui se passe?

Les choses
Les trucs
Les pantalons

Ce ça qu'on a pour vivre encore

Quarante poids et un peu pour l'alcool


They are silly without radar

Please stay at your stations and cooperate

There are five lines people

After the war

After the way

They renamed the boulevard

Their words made it seem old

Old with an E

Songs about words




Commas are not allowed

Make it so that the air is thick enough

As become Es

Meetings in suits are like champagne afternoons

She's calling in a half-hour

Maybe it will mean something to you


Sorry I'm exhausted I can't do your radicalism today

This shop's getting political

Il n'y a pas de taille unique

If there were two of me, it would be like all business
Oh I know if I were dating me there would be like no talking, like none whatsoever

A laugh is a cry
Leave us in your will
What a joke
What studio practice?

Qu’est ce qui se passe avec celui là?
Est-il en train de lire des règles?

Oh we can get refills on everything right?

This is a good time to hold Hillary

That's so European I literally don't even know what you're saying right now

Johnson is gone
Nixon is gone
And we ask that the wrongs now right themselves
It's summer vacation from Vietnam and we can view it with a calendar of circular perspective


One star unhappy face

We are processing your order

I'm CCing you guys in without Max and Marissa

Is she wearing a wire?

I emailed them twice already

I changed the names because I signed an NDA today

He violated C
Accent E

The worlds longest tunnel slide

He is such a tit

100 milliliters in a clear plastic bag
Laptops out
Belts off
Sir no not you not yet

Use your own phone
Cleaning an AC under a running tap
I hear a hospital got bombed in Syria today

Why has cheese been added to everything?
From PE to UC
Barnett Newman zip


The work was interesting for a Thursday

Naked men, lattes and Disney

Bathing dogs

Men in thongs

America wants you to want it so badly

Tell me my flag is sexy and unwanted brown all over
Dirty how you like it

I’m not sure when I learned to stop loving you

Can i get a coffee to get toe

Kerb with a K
Kart with a K
Kris with a K

Where's my car
Where's my uber
Where's my driver
Where's my phone


A job of influence

The violence and power of replacing fruit truck emblems and revising skylines to reflect only security theater and
post 2014

Deliveries in the back and concrete gates

Violins and bagpipes don't mean it was un-given

Hollow waste like daydreams of great and failed 90s death threats

Your wallet is still filled with blood
Only the lonely carry ready-cash for making pleasure of the only affectation
afforded to any one with an open heart and an open Chase account

That was in the 90s when we sought attention through words and not

Spoke To Christian Last Year And He Told Me He Was Interested In Subcontractors From Eastern Europe/Re: Web Design|All Other/Non-Member

Presumably, friends are going to be full of proof

There is a cop always stationed outside

Checking papers without checking papers if you know what I mean

Cronuts, a four-star tip jar and 75c pastries tell us we are free

But fireworks can happen in whole foods too

I thought I would be safe in Dean and Deluca because that's where I shop

Dizzying and whipped of blood
Now free to pass through body scanners on a whim
Meanwhile the numbers greet us with the promise of death by cop

Your freedom is getting all over me
She just needs to focus on herself right now, ok?

And she has so many children
It’s like she adopted an entire village
What do you think she will do?

Not only milk mothers learn how to count the time on the wall
Some of us up here also know like there is no tomorrow


Tiles highlight








that writing is invisible social texture

check uncheck

duke of the gallery check


10,000 pound euro dollar yen


bouncer here so we bounce

I like really don’t appreciate that



Death is just a dance that you do alone

Re-enforcing the buttons that she sewed on my shirt was like holding her hand again

Run for the door and then pretend it's cool like you just don't care

Sick of the military copters flying over the bridge

No reason

Nine eleven is on a sunday this year


Garden party canteen, tonic water shots at the poker table

Broken lights by the looks of it and by the end of it all

Pissed off at the body-image elevator mirrors with uncomfortable tugs at a blouse

Drink hard

lüse weight

Have you any idea how long it took to achieve these organic beings and swiftershrinking

expenditure reports

Buying a thirty day metro card - a quiet promise of living for another month

Their irony isn't new

Her brain just caught up with last years memes

By wearing the university t shirt, you are complicit in the brain rot

Broken and/or sold and salvaged apparatuses in the 4th floor classroom of pre-Brooklyn


Ghosts of information

Infrastructure merely scented with tape-glue marks on the floor

Oh god the election is coming up

Throw up peace signs so you can rock the vote

See what you’ve done democracy works

Black markets for votes

Skin color is sin color

And guess who will pay the price

Once again

Last time, promise


Artists all staring at each other

Looking at outfits instead of work

A bee jay for Tee Jay

My thoughts are getting urban

Have not Want not

Banners in bespoke espresso clubs

He doesn’t run a shop, he runs a salon nowThere’s a difference

Only that which is made inevitable by discursive pleasure


Pre-diabetes at a college drive-thru
like fake sausage and eggs for breakfast every day
better yet on a kroissant

McDonalds in The Gallery gave out free ice cream and it was the only day that the homeless of the area were unwelcomed

That was before bathroom stabbings and transposing of broken data onto youth

And before anyone without a claim had wherewithal to venture into rolling stop sign areas

Temple is a fortress and your white girls are safe don’t worry

Complaints in the library about those quota students
Give them the means but not the tools
All is fine

On paper this is fine country to be in

this is a fine
country to be

May 68 how dare you

as though its the only thing America needs

orgasmic post-intellectualism
better fit for all-stars, insta fame and white walls


Hey don't worry I'm not a cop

You were doing just fine

Risks faced on a daily basis pale in comparison

You're important you're important it's ok you're important

Fake in a glass box

Paid non-outdoor time

Blessed rays through double-backed silica

Accepting faces at biased value

When I was a young man man

When I was a young woman woman

Three can play that game

Nostalgia is a killer

It'll get you in the end if you keep looking back at emails and photos from six years ago

Fatter stomachs and moving forwards

When deleting an email
a message unread is treason

Social suicide

Tall buildings for voting booths

Instagram is frowning at me

Nice weekend


We don’t pick cotton anymore
I can’t see why you react like this
When there’s so much real work to be done

In 2010 a bourgeois indulgence was a bad thing
Phantom pamphlets
Bobos in a secondhand reader downloaded illegally

The instructor’s new app
ready for your texts

Lemonade means we’re all united now

He doesn’t want to talk to me
He wanted to talk to you

Did it only seem fair
to have socialite surveillance
passive aggressive stares into computer screens
Can anyone actually knw rght nw?

A canned text and square format photo at the ready

proving the need for less play
studying outside
cold ground for books

E-readers and tablets
need to wait until tuesday
when you reach out

Stream for me
Stream for me
Won’t you

And faint before you close the chat window.


Foreign qualifications keeping domestic company

Don’t now say that you too have not felt this way

Options include

“O dear one waited upon”

The look into our eyes is changed intent
Resentment and learned skills
Exchange silhouettes and passports

Looking back at her long life of recovery

All trials attended to
all worries and anointed to-do lists

sitting back like oral in a chair

Raised voices

Pushing away like why are you doing this
That’s nothing

Late on the uptake
Analog waiting

Tie a ribbon around a tree its already been seven years
Slow so slow colors
Initial pairing
Sequences edited for maximum impact

Sweet one you’re ready
You’re ready
Left behind

Scratches on the cracked drywall
Haven’t you had enough already?
He’s in with us

Hands out to say grace - untouched

Designer clothes for children too many stacked boxes
Plastic is what was meant to be - yankee ingenuity
No injuries for backdoor work

He needed only for the glasses to be removed and the anxieties
also became memories in plastic

Do you want to wait a second?
Customers make the most loyal fans
Would you die for your customers?


Honey that's not my style

Death palms and neapolitan neon love

Battleground, Florida 1990
Battleground, Florida 2000
Battleground, Florida 2016

loose stools
fist machine and a concrete fix
Weird unwanted late mornings with The Pick-up Kids

Nauseous train journey for two and your latest houseguest, redoing the insides
And then a Big Pink sunset on Easter
Can't talk
Won't talk

Long shadows on a boulevard, shouldering dirty clothes in a plastic bag, ready for sedatives and late-night tourism infomercials

Freezing, broken phone calls
Alms by SMS and email

There's a lot to be done
You've got planning to do
There's things that needs to happen

Do you have the phone number?
We should be there at 2

Consolation drinks
Only rented, in the toilet an hour later

Cold codeine color contest

The comments are getting positive


Unstated evidence

Send your #rainselfies to @

Post op

Post Hegelian sense of self

"Ohioans are so demureTheir reaction to live television cameras is so quaint, late 1950s adorable”

Endearing, undecided voters hate the wall

Conditioned to applause
conditioned for applause

Mcdonalds and cigarettes crossing the avenue on the way to work

Primordial 90s hangovers with wide laces

Brown skin, paid to haul ice in the heat for an inflatable pool and a white child's birthday party

Rooms for 100 an hour and balloons in your favorite color, full of things un-meant for you

I thought that would be your reaction  


Look at my dress "here's the thing Art is all about interpretation"

Tongueless aspirations and a mirror to the past

He post
Me post
Did you see what she just posted?
I posted into the future

Infantry and joy abandon hope
With two fingers pointed directionless into the audience
There is no weight of American flags is there?


*UNPUBLISHED - currently under review for publication*


Make necessary the arrangements

Exemplary ex-brexit

as it may be


Unintended pushes towards

Here’s the thing

Are you looking into the future

or do you mean that its not a “now” thing

A moment of silence and a cold benediction

Moving target like a fixation

but that we wouldn’t automatically say yes to an electrified debate over
winning concessions on making an abbreviated visit

followed by the killings

Amen to that

uncles and aunts mothers and fathers brothers and sisters
tweeting in unison
A non-indemnifiable chorus

Make now towards a handgun everlasting
post-rhetoric knowhow

Non-responsibility of empathy education

two alerts in text form

Consultancy firms now calling for legislative change looking
at the most recent poll

Shifting attitude
Make shift memorial

see you in Cleaveland
Counciling personnel on hand and available to seek relief

Holding only what was brought
Something more dangerous than weapons

Bipartisan committee erupting in a dozen cities overnight

As he screamed for his father, I couldn’t help but detach

as for me and my family
head of house on a renewal lease

Forcing you and them to the water’s edge

Running with a limp body in her hands and on her arms

10 most outrageous things to say to a cop when you are asked to

bow your heads and pray for the forgiveness

Thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers
Thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers
Thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers
Thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers
Thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers
Thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers thoughts and prayers
t&p t&p

lasting like a fight over a wedding dress
its not about that you prick

Thank you for your patience

An unanswered call means they are never coming back
that unidentified body is her son’s

This doesn’t happen to people like us it just doesn’t happen
to people like us I don’t know who it happens to

The words the diatribe the hatred flow from the microphone and the sandwich board
like weeping

The broadcast network delivers the latest and most watched
giving us only a taste of the good life streamed

And we hope only that they will post about who was the last to


Currency becomes the means, very literally The Medium, through which individuals on this plane interact, relate, engage, admire, view, assimilate.

Like an arranged marriage, the outcome of the interaction is predetermined - not by power as understood in what are now familiar terms - but through social non-agency as minute and cloaked as something like taste. But taste is again a cloaked term. Then, the question is, is taste necessarily taste or can it be a euphemism - perhaps a rogue agent - for something quasi-scientific in the same (however removed) as the mid-century horror. Is taste not about feigned desire and instead about an approximated value.

Is this object worthy of My Consumption and/through My Association?

Not, “does it echo with the sounds of the right bank account notification?” - but is it fit for surrounding me or me enveloping it insomuch as it can be seen as somehow connected to my own existence?

An easy example of this is manner in which those of considerable means might surround themselves with those who toil in some endeavor that the former come to describe as culture, even while not fully understanding the implication of the term.

Unaware of former misbehaviors, artists might be collected in the same way that a child collects figurines or playing and trading cards from the latest fad game. Unaware of the history, development, discipline, or academic endeavor understood by this adopted world, The Collector seeks to amass as a means of reifying a public-facing cultural diet of only that which is worthy.   They ignore the inscription upon the artist-as-item that calls for a fundamental need for study and careful contemplation in favor of the obsessive drive (that we can indeed understand as an archival drive towards death) to subsume beyond that of the neighbor, the acquaintance: the feared equal and the loathed superior.

I don’t care. I love it.

And so is this thesis of The Collector perpetuated until one trial of connoisseurship is lost to another fleeting interest.


Franklin Collective’s The Wine is crafted from a unique blend of early Minimalist notes combined with a hyperreal bouquet of iterative fragrances. Though the dialectic opposition of floral tones, the palate of the disparate sobriquets becomes reified through a haptic appreciation of a soft, more horizontal approach to the fermentation process. The wine’s color signature challenges an essentialist reading of organic fruit harvesting, while speaking to hints of post-capitalist acidity daringly juxtaposed with a somewhat gestural play on taste-normativity. The plurality of tastes in The Wineexists within a liminal space between a problematization of both ‘good’ and ‘terrible. Allow your mouth to unpack the earthy discursiveness of The Wine.

Its been said that:

“This wine completely privileges my reading of intuitionist critiques of what constitutes flavor, in a quasi-Hegelian sense.”


Franklin Collective recognizes the value of the Internet in its capacity to connect and allow for the sharing of ideas and information - especially across physical distance. Our relationship is of course aided in this way. It is the discovery process for artists and curators that we see as a bit more dubious in terms of a kind of horizontality. Platforms like Google ultimately manage and preassign our experience of the Internet and point to certain places and identities over others. Whereas in the past, one might come across a particular artist based on a conversation with a stranger or simply wandering into a gallery in a particular neighborhood. At this point, the limits of controlled access to working artists were physical location, social interaction and perhaps a kind psychogeographic reading of a particular place insomuch as whether or not an individual might find oneself or even permit oneself to wander into an unknown neighborhood, zone, otherspace, nospace.

Proprietary algorithms and sponsored search results now determine which artists we might become aware of or which institutions an artist might learn of and deem as accessible and/or aligned with his/her/their practice.‘Participation’ with ‘the arts’ has also seen a curtailing. ‘Like’ and ‘Favorite’ have become abstracted support of, understanding of, engagement with an artist’s practice. Instaculture and Like-culture mean that viewing art is as replaceable and replicable of an experience as unfollowing one arts blog in favor of another.

And yet, we still see benefits to the Internet’s continued and expanding role in our field. While the very real spatial and operational constraints of server-dependency have not been fully addressed in the newly evolved identity of ‘the archive’ and the death-drive that ensues - archival material for the present (and, we hope, the future…) has seen an incredible leap forwards in terms of visibility and transparency. The veil of the turreted artist continues to unravel as social media channels allow us to, more often, have some (even if carefully curated) view of an artist’s personal life.

Where once a viewer was limited to the rare sketches found in backroom dealings and drunken nights with an artist or simply what an artist chose to share in a studio visit as fully formed, finished ‘work’ - direct and indirect access to digital records now allow for past work, even those perhaps seen by an artist as ‘failures’, to become a matter of public record. Illusions of 21st century privacy aside, this does present us with a new kind of transparency for the art-viewing public.


The Gallery was a shopping mall in               . Opened in 1977, it was intended to ‘re-vitalize’ downtown (soon given the moniker:              ) and draw suburban dwellers into the city. Over time the function of the space became ambiguous. For many, rather than a place to to shop, The Gallery was more of an indoor walkway to and from the connecting              train station (now called              , when thenaming rights were purchased by              ) to nearby Chinatown,              Terminal, and                City.
Ironically, this failure of the proposed function of the space meant the success of its alignment with a few etymological understandings of the word from which its name was derived. Galerie from Old French to describe a long, covered passageway. Outside of this function, The Gallery also held a place in                as a kind of unintentional piazza. Much more so, at least, than the nearby               , considered to be the municipal heart of the city, yet largely cold and uninviting with its vast, windswept, and barren concrete plaza. Some would call it a third-rate social space - one that (given its literal subterranean location) could often be found without the markings of a more high-profile venue. But this meant that it could remain largely untouched, undisturbed, by the municipal desire for the sanitization of presence in public space. If                were Walter Benjamin’s Paris, The Gallery would be his Arcades.

The soft (at times, even dim) yellow hue lighting and long sections of seating unclaimed by any particular business entity provided a setting that invited presence without payment. As such, it served as a relatively safe gathering place for many of the city’s youth after the conclusion of the school day - in a city where austerity measures eliminated many of the ‘sanctioned’ spaces and programs for young people to come together, The Gallery served the community in                by acting as a surrogate for this social need. It also became a place for many of the nearby homeless community to take shelter from extreme heat, cold weather, and wet weather, as well as collect unsold food at the end of the day from the restaurants located there.

The Gallery is now in transition. It is no longer a place for congregation, public lounging, the quotidien, the flaneur. It will, in 2017, become a ‘luxury’ shopping destination, replacing record stores with designer handbag retailers and moving the formerly subterranean food court and seating area above ground where it can be more easily surveilled and patrolled by private security and city police. The attachment to an etymology for The Gallery has shifted yet again - except this time, not at the will of the people, but at the will of commerce and that familiar desirous fantasy of a filthy historyas a foundation for accumulation. There is no place for looking at The Gallery. Nor is there a place for kissing, thinking, touching, burning, drifting, or even crying. The sole purpose of The Gallery is purchase.


The removal of the term “born” from the biography of Franklin Collective was not an act of editing, but an admission.

Penalization as research.

To be born seems, as a string of words, innocuous in its referral of the act of coming into existence to the location of the mother. A centered origination at which the body may (read: will) acclimate to striation as a means of understanding. In approaching the collective, it seemed inaccurate to characterize the process of formation in this way. Birth takes after being. It assumes that the starting point is necessarily revealed as a way of ‘knowing’ that which admits to origination.

One does not point to the ‘center’ of the ocean - not because one does not believe that it exists, but because one thinks that to determine ocean’s center is not a way of better understanding its source. Rather, it is an admission that in even referring to ocean with “the” - one has injected a pre-formed map into the process of understanding something that requires little more than a teaspoon in order to have its ‘center’ its ‘balance’recharacterized entirely.

Instead, if we may adopt (read: kidnap) the terminology of Deleuze - to become - it may be possible to find a more agreeable approach to finding the synthesis not of ‘the’ collective, but ‘a’ collective.

Franklin Collective was not ‘born’ anymore than an idea is ‘born’. To accept that fallacy is to assume that an idea, like a collective is not a consequence.

A consequence as accumulation.

The idea is not a product of itself. It is the moment at which potentially thousands upon thousands ad infinitum of seemingly disparate thoughts have the potential to be recognized not as discrete, singular, unrelated, self-contained - but as an entirely different entity altogether. This recognizability of a constellation - the space in which one can move from parts to wholes - this is the fixation on pleasure in conceiving of what might constitute a collective.

In moving away from this desire for uncomplicated answers and yet another instance of reliance upon a binary, we suggest a line of questioning that is willing to fail when the pathology fueling that questioning resists a smooth space - that unsettling moment of interminability (which we so often seek and applaud in conceiving of what might constitute a ‘favorable’ work of art.)


Franklin Collective, the new collective, is a collaborative entity founded by                                                   artist and                 artist in 2014.                 occupies a third space, a space that can exist as potentiality, a becoming-entity that shifts to the provisional needs of the practice.                 is gallery.                 is network as sculpture.                 is jointly seeing. is studio practice.

The movement and network of                 exists alongside the idea of immanence. The actual focus of the entity is not upon entity at all, but rather on individuations, movements, social vectors, that exist without subject - identity as action. These are phenomena that simply become as needed, as response, precluding ego.

                exists as a critique of the fixation upon ‘the singular’ in so many aspects of contemporary society, and more: in the worlds of contemporary art. Because the ’identity’ of                 is, in a sense, a non-identity - or perhaps a multiplicity - issues of accountability, agency, authorship become non-targets for the audience. Rather than focusing on something as simple as ‘the artist’ or ‘the hero’ and all of the singular tropes that the viewer of contemporary art knows so well, the collective is a requirement of troubling the viewer’s location of any actual ‘identity’ in the work. As such, the focus of the work becomes the work itself along with its conceptual underpinnings, rather than a fixation on the authorship and the ‘origin’ of the work.

                is without body, it exists as a pool. Resource necessary to further the collective, is sourced as needed and continuously replenishable and re-shapable as the collective is able subsume anything and everything that it touches.

                creates artworks that exist in the context in which they are synthesized and founded. For instance, in the work created for Instagram titled                ,                 has an Instagram account consisting of                 followers (as of                 ) and a post reading: “all our follower s are fake” [sic]. This work pulls into question the gravitas of following versus follower and the tension that exists between the two as well as the ‘legitimacy’ of being legitimized by social media followers. As systems of non-relation such as Instagram (existing outside of actual experience) yield consequences bearing weight on actual experience, the obsession with tiering and compartmentalization (particularly in termsthat can be monetized) allow for a further corruption of both the actual and non-actual ‘experience’. For instance, the ability to purchase followers and likes on networks such as Instagram. Importantly, the work is not extracted from its form, but proliferates within the locus of its creation. A viewer can follow                , like a post by , and contribute to precisely the issues and questions that the work involves.

                is another such collaborative piece created by                . Using digitally scanned film footage and found imagery, the work explores the ongoing tension between the assumed non-physicality of the digital image and the inherent materiality of the filmic image (albeit, a ghosted materiality at a time when film must be preserved and even viewed as a digital file). Also present at the heart of this dialectic is the question of aura. Does a lack of materiality exclusively constitute a flatness and non-presence? The latest Boeing aircraft, the Dreamliner: the world’s first all-composite aircraft exemplifies our obsession with reduction of mass and the drive to diminish the burden of physical trace.

“From within                 third space, vulnerabilities and character flaws usually associated with one’s ego are, in fact, celebrated, dismantled, and reconstructed into something proactive - something to be celebrated. This is exciting. Currently, the world needs more collectives.”

“                 employs humor in a way that’s not ironic but as a tool to engage and invoke a response from an audience that is inordinately disenchanted with so aspects of contemporary ilife, at the moment.”
“Within the shroud of the collective, innumerable reconfigurations of identity are possible. At any particular moment, three, thirty, forty some individuals might name themselves as existing as                . We can become a patchwork, an assemblage. As contemporary issues and contemporary needs change and evolve, so to does the network that comprises the collective.”

“                 exists as a living, social sculpture - gallery as sculpture, business as sculpture, enterprise as sculpture”