Celebrating five years of collaboration

When Dudgrick Bevins and luke kurtis met in NYC in the mid-2010s and discovered they were originally from the same area of northwest Georgia, they knew an eventual collaboration would make sense. Both were born in the same town, though from different generations. Both made art based on their upbringing in rural Appalachia. Both knew what it was like to be rejected by family, friends, and their communities. The resulting collaboration was a 2017 chapbook titled Georgia Dusk, followed by more books by Bevins and edited/designed by kurtis.

Five years later, both the lives of these artists and the world at large have evolved. But the spirit of their collaboration remains the same. The pair came together to record their poetry just before the pandemic. kurtis later composed the accompanying music. And here we are—five years since the original book—with a spoken word EP celebrating the artists, who they were then, who they are now, and who they are becoming. After all, a life well lived and art well made is in continual transformation.

Please enjoy the Georgia Dusk EP (and the book, too if you never picked it up).

cyberspace and the sea

I had gone away to spend some time out of the city. We booked a house near the sea because it seemed like a relaxing spot. The goal was to disconnect for a while, spend less time looking at screens all day. I took some creative supplies with me, markers and pencils and such, with the vague idea of, should inspiration strike, being creative in an analog way. And, of course, making photos. But I had no grand plan. I didn’t intend to develop a new project. So this is definitely a case of the work finding me instead of me finding it.

The drawings, poems, and photos I made essentially describe my experience that week. I’m literally talking about hanging out by the beach for a few days, trying to recover from a stressful time. On the surface, it’s not so profound. But it’s the mundanity that makes it relatable. I used that simplicity to tap into the subconscious.

After I got back home and realized I had created all this stuff, I wondered what I might do with it. I put together the video art and designed an experience meant to be seen in person, projected in a dark room with surround sound. I even set up a small screen prototype. The work created exactly the immersive and meditative environment I was going for. But given the pandemic, trying to plan an in-person exhibition didn’t feel right. So I began to consider what I could do digitally.

Three monitors showing the seaside magic video art by luke kurtis are the only source of light in the room.
small screen seaside magic video installation prototype

I’ve always been more comfortable in cyberspace, so it’s sort of odd I never did a digital exhibition before. But the pandemic has changed the ways we connect. Besides, I’ve always been somewhat reclusive and find it challenging to communicate with people in person, making digital spaces more effective. So, I hope other people are more open to this way of connecting than they might have been in the past.

It would be easy to think of an online exhibition as an inferior substitute for something else. But I don’t feel that way about this at all. In fact, I’m excited that I can beam this work into your home, no matter where you are in the world.

Please join me and explore seaside magic from your corner of cyberspace. I hope you will approach it with intention and feel the same sense of calm that I felt while making it.

Time, rain, and autumn twilight

An abstract image of autumn leaves
Photo by Anastasia Walker

The other day I watched a video about how time seems to go by faster the older we get. I definitely feel that. Where does the time go?

As time moves on, I like to mark the milestones along the way.

It’s the second November of the pandemic. That’s kind of a milestone. How many more Novembers before the old ways begin to fade? I already feel that to some extent and mostly feel comfortable with a new way of living, working, and being. Next November, certain things about the before times will seem even more distant. But there is also a sadness.

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Poetry and public art in (not only) a time of pandemic

  • free poetry by Dudgrick Bevins
  • free poetry by Dudgrick Bevins

When I messaged fellow poet Dudgrick Bevins the other day, I told him I’ve been finding it difficult to move forward creatively during the coronavirus pandemic. I’ve been at home in lockdown mode for over a month and can count on one hand the number of times I’ve gone outside. You’d think that means I’m holed up, head down, writing poetry, and doing all the creative things I usually do. I’ve been doing a bit of that, yes. But, mostly, I’ve been at a standstill.

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Dudgrick Bevins on fear, family, and finding his spirit animal 😱👨‍👩‍👦🦌

I sat down with Dudgrick Bevins to discuss his debut full-length poetry collection, Route 4, Box 358. Struck by the way he explored his relationship with home, family and—ultimately—himself, I wanted to understand the stories behind the stories and what motivated Bevins to reveal the stories he did.

Dudgrick Bevins, bd Artists, bd Publication, book
Route 4, Box 358 by Dudgrick Bevins
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