Marcia Sandmeyer Wilson
Artist's Statement
(in a series of e-mail improvisations)
you see nothing, right?
that is because i do nothing but eat.
that is because i do nothing but eat.
do i clean my house like mother said i should?
no!!!
and do i get what she says i deserve?
naturally. (you believe in god, don't you?)
i am prisoner.
my cage is my body, my cage is my stuff.
stray dogs sniff and wander on.
oh i could change all this:
wake up and clean the house, write thank you notes, volunteer...
but noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i choose to caterwaul and wallow, caterwaul and wallow
like now.
i am a prisoner of my own possessions, hemmed in by clutter, dogs, and
food.
every day i grow larger and slower. i can see the cougar stalking.
he wants my crosswords, paintings, emails, and books, the whole silly
mess.
and he shall have them.
but not yet.
i make art because i like it.
i apologize for this.
it is not fair that i should have all the fun.
my mother said i would get punished some day.
she got that information from her mother who thought all the pleasurable
things on this earth were wicked.
my mother said i should become a teacher.
she became a teacher.
now she's dead and i'm still enjoying myself.
sssssssssshh.
don't tell anybody.
hahahahahahahahahahahaha.
my purpose in life
is to break wind.
no.
correction.
my purpose in life is to eat.
no.
my purpose in life is to annoyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy and draw attention to
myself.
that's it.
that's why i make books.
i have no purpose
i have no purpose
i do what i like
so there.
sssh.
i have no purpose.
i just do it 'cause i like to stamp my feet to hear the room rattle.
deah michael:
here is my last statement.
i am merely a blot of protoplasm
in the universe.
please excuse me for having the presumption
to believe that anyone would care about what i do.
Marcia Sandmeyer Wilson
October 2003