Zoe Chronis

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LØVEN OG HESTEN—When I painted a drawing of Husum and Wulff’s sculpture of a lion taking a juicy bite out of a horse, the red dripped down the page from the wound onto the wall. When I researched the statue and found out the original was in Rome, I also learned the lion has a human face. I’d come down from the tower that morning after pacing around like a tourist wondering what I was doing in the company of a near-stranger. Why would I need to photograph a sculpture, trace its outline, then color it in? Or Build 3D bricks out of paper and re-flatten them. A reproduction of a Roman sculpture commissioned by Danish Royalty is definitely political, but how? When does an image gain a third dimension? Soon I will find myself in front of other structures closer to home, tracing them back into their line and then their word. Some works need to be undone, that is true.
Walking close to Johannes Hansen's statue of two figures seated face-to-face, he tells me crowds make him nervous even when assembled for a cause he believes in. I am in love with his history, what I foolishly understand as an exposure to political chaos leading to clarity. Alongside him I see the problem I have been organizing myself around, in three dimensions. My desire mirrored in his commitment to zooming-out onto even ground even ground even ground even ground even ground even ground. Not too long after that I have a three-dimensional experience of being pulled by the earth onto even ground.
As usual I walked into town to talk with the doctor because I had considered celebrating my birthday with something new, something I had never tasted before, castor oil. Right outside my door, on the sidewalk in front of the avenue she meets me. As so often happens of late, I cannot keep from smiling when I see her—ah, how much she has come to mean to me! –Søren Kierkegaard, May 5, 1852
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And it is against such sorrow, and it is against such suicide, and it is against such deliberated strangulation of the possible lives of women, my sisters, and of powerless peoples—men and children—everywhere, that I work and live, now, as a feminist trusting that I will learn to love myself well enough to love you (whoever you are), well enough so that you will love me well enough so that we will know exactly where is the love: that it is here, between us, and growing stronger and growing stronger. -June Jordan, "Where is the Love," 1978
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Ramp
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Where is the Love
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  • ('20-'21) Work in Progress
    • Landscapes
      • MMXXI
        • sea/tree
        • ('20) Collage
          • GIFS
            • Collage
            • ('19) Politics or Provocation?
              • Works on Paper
                • Enten/Eller
                  • Amarillo Ramp
                    • All They Can
                    • ('14) Oh—D~~~!!
                      • ('13) Flyers
                        • ('11) Are You the New Person?
                          • ('10-'12) Let's Agree to Disagree
                            • ('09) Medals
                              • ('09) Controlled Demo
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