I am a dog walking
I am a dog walking backwards and I’m overly aware of it. And it makes me anxious and it makes me dig.
Dig up the groomed lawn and slip under the fences.
Dig deep into my thoughts and tear up the room.
I am a dog walking backwards contemplating what role I’ll have in the future.
I walk backwards to the warm past, letting the memories graze their hands along my fur.
The memories repeat and form icons and those repeat too.
Houses and lawns and dogs and people populate my canine head.
And I bark at the mirror.
I am a dog walking backwards and all dogs go to heaven. The pope said it himself. And belief systems are complicated by mundane moments. And I don’t know what to put my faith in when I feel so small.
Brittni Ann Harvey
Harry Gould Harvey IV
Jeremy Lee Wolin
The title of this exhibition is taken from For The Foxes, a poem by Bukowski.
Much of the work spawns from a similar solitude and analyzes the individual’s role and purpose in larger histories and systems.
Mythologies forged from banality, a sublime of the commons.