Christopher Burch’s visual works combine drawing, painting, flocked damask wallpaper, hand painted silver serving trays, and sculpture to create a haughntinlgy surreal full scale site specific installations. The results are conflating landscapes in which historical, socio-economic and political forces that have shaped and continue to shape American racial geographies, teeter on the edge of madness. Something in the Way of Things, written by Amiri Baraka in 2008, is a disturbingly subtle and dark social commentary probing an existential crisis within the African American experience due to the inability to fully synthesize historical and contemporary racial tensions and realties . Memory and testimony (ultimately language itself) become metaphors for seeing or the inability to see. Baraka exposes, that the borders between visibility (to see, to articulate ones experiences) and invisibility (to not see, to not be able to articulate ones experiences) are at times schizophrenic.Burch’s project for the TNF A.I.R residency is entitled “Somethings ..are (In) the Way of Things”. During the months of January 2012 and February 2012 Burch will build a full scale, on site, installatioon/environment re-interpreting Amiris Baraka’s poem “Something in the Way of Things.”Accompanying the installation of work within the Luggage Store Annex, the residency will also incorporate literary performances and dance pieces held in the Tenderloin National Forest itself. These performances and recitals will address various personal interpretations of the poem “Something In the Way of Things.”(Hours: Daily 12-5, closed Mondays)
Christopher Burch lives and works in San Francisco CA. He received his BFA at Columbia College in Columbia Missouri, in 2002 and his MFA at the San Francisco Art Institute in 2008. He is also a founding member of the Screwed Arts Collective based out of St. Louis MOChristopher’s, aim is to create a visual language that captures the ectoplasmic echoes existing between laughter and death, the space between erasure and presence, the conflict between the singular and multiplicity, the uncanny ability of the comedic to show the vulnerable, the horrific, the morbid, the schizophrenic, and the ghostly, all at the same blurring moment in time.
Below is a poem that inspired Christopher:
In town By Amiri Baraka
Something in the way of things Something that will quit and won’t start Something you know but can’t stand Can’t know get along with Like death Riding on top of the car peering through the windshield for his cue Something entirely fictitious and true That creeps across your path hallowing your evil ways Like they were yourself passing yourself not smiling The dead guy you saw me talking to is your boss I tried to put a spell on him but his spirit is illiterate
I know things you know and nothing you don’t know ‘cept I saw something in the way of things Something grinning at me and I wanted to know, was it funny? Was it so funny it followed me down the street Greeting everybody like the good humor man But an they got the taste of good humor but no ice cream It was like dat Me talking across people into the houses And not seeing the beings crowding around me with ice picks You could see them But they looked like important Negroes on the way to your funeral Looked like important jiggaboos on the way to your auction And let them chant the number and use an ivory pointer to count your teeth Remember Steppen Fetchit Remember Steppen Fetchit how we laughed An all your Sunday school images giving flesh and giggling With the ice pick high off his head Made ya laugh anyway
I can see something in the way of our selves I can see something in the way of our selves That’s why I say the things I do, you know it But its something else to you Like that job This morning when you got there and it was quiet And the machines were yearning soft behind you Yearning for that nigga to come and give up his life Standin’ there bein’ dissed and broke and troubled
My mistake is I kept sayin’ “that was proof that God didn’t exist” And you told me, “nah, it was proof that the devil do” But still, its like I see something I hear things I saw words in the white boy’s lying rag said he was gonna die poor and frustrated That them dreams walk which you ‘cross town S’gonna die from over work There’s garbage on the street that’s tellin’ you you ain’t shit And you almost believe it Broke and mistaken all the time You know some of the words but they ain’t the right ones Your cable back on but ain’t nothin’ you can see But I see something in the way of things Something to make us stumble Something get us drunk from noise and addicted to sadness I see something and feel something stalking us Like and ugly thing floating at our back calling us names You see it and hear it too But you say it got a right to exist just like you and if God made it But then we got to argue And the light gon’ come down around us Even though we remember where the (light or mic) is Remember the Negro squinting at us through the cage You seen what I see too? The smile that ain’t a smile but teeth flying against our necks You see something too but can’t call its name
Ain’t it too bad y’all said Ain’t it too bad, such a nice boy always kind to his motha Always say good morning to everybody on his way to work But that last time before he got locked up and hurt, real bad I seen him walkin’ toward his house and he wasn’t smiling And he didn’t even say hello But I knew he’d seen something Something in the way of things that it worked on him like it do in will And he kept marching faster and faster away from us And never even muttered a word Then the next day he was gone You wanna know what You wanna know what I’m talkin’ about Sayin’ “I seen something in the way of things” And how the boys face looked that day just before they took him away The is? in that face and remember now, remember all them other faces And all the many places you’ve seen him or the sister with his child Wandering up the street Remember what you seen in your own mirror and didn’t for a second recognize The face, your own face Straining to get out from behind the glass Open your mouth like you was gon’ say somethin’ Close your eyes and remember what you saw and what it made you feel like Now, don’t you see something else Something cold and ugly Not invisible but blended with the shadow criss-crossing the old man Squatting by the drug store at the corner With is head resting uneasily on his folded arms And the boy that smiled and the girl he went with
And in my eyes too A waving craziness splitting them into the jet stream of a black bird Wit his ass on fire Or the solomNOTness of where we go to know we gonna be happy
I seen something I SEEN something And you seen it too You seen it too You just can’t call it’s name
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