Ray Osborn
Tag: elegy

Ray Osborn from Dandelions on the Lawn
Marc Quinn, Eternal Spring, 1998
Ray Osborn from Dandelions on the Lawn
I saw myself in this one young woman in the foreground
With a look of desolation and a body that looked pregnant
As she leaned against the moss covered rocks off to the side
Apart from all the people celebrating midsummer
I knew her person was gone just like me
And just like me she looked across at the fires from far away
And wanted something in their light to say:
“Live your life, and if you don’t
The ground is definitely ready at any moment to open up again
To swallow you back in
To digest you back into something useful for somebody”
Meanwhile above all these Norwegians dancing in the twilight
The permanent white snow gleamed
You used to call me “Neige Éternelle”
Ray Osborn
Mercy Seat
In Memory of Alice Alsup, 1990-2014
Her heart was paired with
a strained will, itself itself,
looking for bits of water.
Her heart rang blooms
from witted country dust.
Born, Texas, from scoria
of course, no more
than flower-trash found
wilting in the void.
Totaled in absolution.
Those deep roots alone
might stand all lonesome,
swimmingly, across
some plank-skied wharf
that has never sought
anything but daydreams,
pressed bulbs, full of sea.
Dry it rams in streamings
through Texas, now brined
and sickened, flank of water.
–It is mimed –You, mine.

Felix Gonzalez-Torres
Untitled (Lover Boys)
1991
Candies individually wrapped in clear wrapping, endless supply.
Overall dimensions vary with installation.

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (Placebo), 1991, at Specific Object without Specific Form at WIELS, Brussels, 2010

Roni Horn

Felix Gonzalez-Torres



Felix Gonzalez-Torres at Andrea Rosen Gallery, 2016, curated by Julie Ault and Roni Horn

