September 17 - October 29, 2016

Phoebe Berglund, Carey Denniston, Joyce Kim, Kellie Romany


Press Release

Hands that now hang like a heavy knot, as a child once spliced the lamp’s glow into shapes, screenshot in the dark – eleven eleven – haptic tips glitch back, distracted ghosts. 

Shadow play in praise of a once-worn, now not-frock’s suspended waves making fossils. Pressings paid their way in liquid harvest of apocalypse – slabs of mud and salt.

I dreamt a leaf eclipsed the sun. I knew I had to picture it. My phone was full it knew the code for lay with me. Epiphany of mortar tears, stone feet, heart bleach. When all was said and done, the tooth was in the placing arrangement. Talisman intent on naming pavement.

Phantom branch, I see you. Planted here amongst tall stalks, your wing in my hand, unsettles August murk. Deceptive cinders shift horizons. Warm glitter fills the void, don’t clear the air.

As days grow short, a blue effect points out and laughs: cloud bodies in sun parlors, stitching selves to earth. An embalmed cravat unknots itself, licking its dark purples and honey.

Cumulous gills of the new age blink as if to cart away the satin traps. I swear I’ve seen your roiling image there. Reflection swims in varnish, verge to verge, strands of flying white.

River tree here, otter sloth there, there, the dogwood’ balding now. Shoreline’s story ceding faster than a bat could ratchet past horizon. A creak of green above the sea flashes ASMR, reveals its silver webs. Back on sand, spheres diagram this brimming.

So carve us out, they say, we understand the clouds. Rabbit ear, dog face, witch’s hat, knight’s spear. Childhood game whose only burden was this loss of light, and not this hopeless weight, this endless night.

-Jocelyn Spaar


Unisex Salon
133 Manhattan Ave
Brooklyn, NY 11206