PRESS.release
Marshmallow Mitch McConnell has not always had such a hard, crusty surface. When he was a younger marshmallow, he was the sweetest, softest and whitest of all marshmallows anywhere in America. Whenever he walked in, he lit up the room. He loved smiles and hugs and never had a cross word to say about anyone. However, he noticed sometimes when he would start to really like someone, he would feel a strange heat in his marshmallow core. Sometimes, surrounded by friends, his center would get so heated, his insides would liquify. Occasionally, in such a moment of heat, his soft exterior would release a little squirt of his gooey center. Whenever this happened, it would make Young Marshmallow Mitch blush in embarrassment, causing his perfect white complexion to turn a slight pink. Mitch grew to despise these events. He was never sure which he hated more, the squirting or the blushing, but since he was powerless to stop either one once these events were set in motion, he decided to withdraw his smiles and his hugs, to retreat to a fortress of his own solitude and spend every day of his life working to grow thicker skin. These days, old Marshmallow Mitch never leaks his embarrassing gooey insides, for his skin has grown so hard and crusty that no thing and no one could ever penetrate it. He feels no heat—neither the heat of affection nor the heat of embarrassment. Alone he sits, cold and content. And alone he will remain until the end of his sad marshmallow days.
We all have soft insides. Some of us know how to value our insides and are brave enough to let our insides out. Others of us, like Mitch McConnell, cower inside our thick skins. These thick-skinned folks have allowed themselves to believe that if they are strong enough and hard enough, they can keep their soft insides from squirting all over the world.
We all have soft insides. Some of us know how to value our insides and are brave enough to let our insides out. Others of us, like Mitch McConnell, cower inside our thick skins. These thick-skinned folks have allowed themselves to believe that if they are strong enough and hard enough, they can keep their soft insides from squirting all over the world.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
We at the Marcel Maus Hermeneutical Think Tank believe that ART is not what you hang on your walls. In fact ART is not an object at all. ART (applied relational transmogrification) is the event when two or more objects becoming intimately proximate, warming and softening because of their proximity, leaking on each other, and becoming entangled. ART is the community of objects—human objects, art objects, etc—gifting their surface viscosity to others and reciprocally receiving other’s viscosity unto and onto themselves. “How?” you might ask. How does an art object (sculpture, painting, etc) "gift its surface viscosity"? Well, young ART appreciator, draw close to an ART object and see what happens.
ART (applied relational transmogrification) is a radical and messy inter-object relationship where two (or more) become one. Let us in 2021 allow ourselves to be leaked on, squirt on, and spewed on so that we, in turn, might leak on, squirt on, and spew on one another. let us expose our sweet, soft centers so that we might enter into ART together and become one. —Anthro Naughty