ART ARCHIVE
karma from amarillo, tx.
No ApologyTip the glass
I know it's over
the piper is paid
the song is sungSalty laments
and fishy motives
I spilled into you
you only flushed me outI fed your every whim
you painfully outgrew me
a pacifier tossed asideTip the glass
I know it's over
the well is dry
the ticket is spent
Marina S. from MD.
Your glance...
that glance pierces the heart
of everybody
and mine
It inserts in my soul and
discovers...
That glance crosses my glance;
the eyes pledges communication
and seem to tell what
the lips can't say:
utter the formula of love
Oh! betrayers
Under that tender image with a
mask that covers your love
and only eyes - the mirror
but I can't resist too much
They show me love and life and
hope
Again
moments seem hours - eternity
hours seem moments - lunacy
the infinite tells that
it has no end
love has not died yet
but it develops in strange
aspects
conquering all the body
and in the chest
is felt a blue warmth
And uneven breath
is unforgettable
with hardly perceivable
vibration
Oh... and again your eyes...
There was a lesbian band in Washington, DC during the mid seventies HYSTERIA featuring: Phyllis Telfair-sax, vocals, composer (African American)
Terri Clark-keys, vocals, trumpet, composer (African American)
Barbara Lewis-drums, vocals
Diane Goshen-Bass
Ellen?=Bass after Diane left
They played at the 1st Campaign-Urbana Womens's Music Festival. They are a part of our lesbian herstory. 'Nuff said.
I wrote two songs, and it's too bad you can't hear how they sound. The first one is dedicated to my father, and the second one to my long lost love.
DO I HAVE TO DIE?
I'm locked in the closet,
in the dark room.
My sisters are gone,
and my mom's too.
From the other side,
I hear the screem:
He's angry again,
Why do you hate me so much?
I'm not a criminal!
Why do you treat me as such
as I'm a prostitute?
No, I'm not a prostitute!
Look at my eyes,
Look at my tears,
Look at my heart,
Look at my fears!
Do I have to die?
Do I have to die,
To make you happy?
I'm hearing your voice
as my heart beats.
I'm gonna be free,
like in my dreams.
Could anyone save
a person like me?
Release me from this!
Release me from him!
What have I done so wrong,
if I'm in love with her?
I am just in love with her!
Do I have to stay alone,
because you want me to?
Just because you want me to!
Look at my eyes,
Look at my tears,
Look at my pain,
Look at my fears!
Even this is not enough,
I don't accept to die
For you!
Just to make you happy!
I don't wanna lie no more,
not to you,
not to me, not to anyone.
If you really want me gone,
I'll be out of your life!!!I FEEL LIKE...
Nobody has ever loved me
the way you did,
and now that you are gone
I'm feeling so alone.
Even for hundred years,
I'll be still waiting for you,
so all the people say
that I'm going insane.
I feel like
flying when I'm walking.
I feel like,
dancing in the sea.
I feel like,
water all around me.
I feel like,
you're so close to me.
Except for you,
no one wants to touch my heart,
and even if they do,
I'm longing just for you.
Your perfect smile,
brings my soul back to life,
and in the end of day,
I can see it in the sky.
I feel like,
flying when I'm walking.
I feel like,
dancing in the sea.
I feel like,
water all around me.
I feel like,
You're so close to me.
Barbara Malaran
Jason Daniel
"Molly & her hair & coat"
Laura Paris - "Lipstick Kiss"
Canaan Parker - "Sky Daddy"
Alan N. Roth, Independent Filmmaker
Lala Endara - "bad hair day (nudge wink, nudge wink)"
Barbara Hammer's T-Shirt
Ain Bailey
Susan O'Brien - "1967 Kindergarden and 1998 Irish Lesbian & Gay Organization" photographs
Cecilia Dougherty - "San Francisco 1978" photo and painting self-portraits
"Cloe and Alma kiss"
Akiko - "Summer '97 at Beach: My Girlfriend"
Mollie - "Beauty and the Breast"
Marguerite Paris - "Film Maker's Hands"
Claira Kim and Jim Gardner - "John + Yoko in Lesbo Space"
Jack Waters - "Post Natal digichild"
Sarah Johnson
ANIE S8 STANLEY - "OUTFIT FOR A CHEAP DATE"
R. to T. Valentine and Valentine Inspirartion
CHeri-lee (chez) is my girlfriend - i'm using her access, anyway she is a struggling working class lesbin art student desperatly trying to forge a disertation around lesbian art. I don't know if this is a british problem but there just doesnt seem to bbe the informaion arund that she wants.Having warned her a disertation on lesbian art was far to broad based - she;s totally proved me wrong surely 'damn fine art' is not a singular masterpiece!
As down to earth beans on tosat girls I guess we're just not mixing in the right circles so any help/information would be absolutley brilliant. e-mail c.l.birch@uwic.ac.uk
We are both English regects drawn to cardiff for a change of scenery (no pun intended)
I call this poem Red Hot Sex. Hope you all enjoy it.
Console me
Roll me
in arms of fire
Excite me
Ignite me
with passion's pyre
Desire me
Inspire me
with whispered wants
Devour me
Overpower me
with tawdry taunts
Seduce me
Reduce me
to a primal state
Caress me
Possess me
and satiate
Am I alone
Do your eyes turn away
No tears or bloodshed
You died not for me
My pain is not real
Only evil exists
Evil mind, body, soul
My heart cries out
Dear Lord look
Look at my tears
Look in my soul
I yearn to exist
I need to feel
Locked and closed
I can not remain
I must escape
Is it you who hates
Please let it not
Is there a place for me
May I cry at your feet
Oh lord I cry out
Love me like I love thee
anonymous.milk and blood make pink
The Seat by Maria Elena Gonzalez and Jocelyn Taylor.
The Seat- a hot wired rubber chair complete with vibrations. A vibrator hanging overhead. A monitor displaying a set buttocks being spanked - the vibrator plays in the background. Its about the dichotomy of pleasure and a danger. Desire wrapped and warped. Unavoidable submission to the voyeristic+gaze and the audible recognition of a source of orgasm.
Jocelyn Taylor - photo collage
S. Topiary. I am the creator of ZoLoft and the pirate spaceship component of CYBERSTROIKA - a special program of Frameline's 19th annual Lesbian and Gay Film Festival in San Francisco. CYBERSTROIKA is an interactive-multi-media exhibition of Queer Visions of the Future. It will happen June 15,16 and 17th 1995 from 7.30-10.30pm at Southern Exposure Gallery in San Francisco. Barbara Hammer's work is going to be exhibited along with the work of 40 or so kick-ass, rad video, film,multi-media and performance and computer artists. My exhibit, ZoLoft features eye-candy rave trip visuals and an original sound installation of techno music and digital samples. SuperPOGS are my color xerox editions of the newest in rave art- printed on original Dannon Yogurt tops. There's way more information to be had about this amazing, earth-shattering event. You can write to me at Topiary@aol.com -- or w/snail mail at S.Topiary, 419 So. Van Ness, San Francisco, CA 94103. Rave on.
Topiary - "Super POGs"
Lucaria - drawing
On A Scale - art installation
Tribe8 - photo of band
Michelle Smith - South Gate, California. Salutations! My name is Michelle but everyone calls me "MO". This is a poem I wrote and I hope whoever reads it will like it.FREE
As she wakes from her
Nightly nap her eyes
Open to a world of hate
And greed
Her need of love pulls
Her toward pain
Heartache is she
When she looks she cannot
Touch
Forbidden love stews in her mind Always a good girl
I was, but things have changed
NO MORE
Innocent girl am I!
Wild and free I will be
I'll break away from my chains.
Today I will flow my
Dreams where ever they
May take me.
No adventure too
Risky now that I am
FREE!!
Erica. Norcross, Georgia. 11.04.95, ©1996.
NEOPHYTE
In the dead of the night
With only a dim light to guide my eyes
I hear the striking of a swaying pendulum.
Or is it my heart?
It sounds as heavy as iron,
Imposing my silence in perfect succession.
Echoing through my whole--
I feel empty on my journey.
I burn with love for just one.
Recollecting each glance,
Each kiss,
Each word spoken;
In these few moments.
I caress each memory,
Fondling every second.
Release me from this prison of confusion!
I want to again be volatile--
As the bird is on a new spring day.
Let this damn clock stop pounding in my head!
Dictating the rhythms of my moods and desires.
Time moves yet so slow, when you are gone
And when you are here--
It moves ever so effervescently.
Such as my original spirit.
rebecca.
raped by men ....from age 4 ..sexualy abused..now i'm happy with a loving girlfriend....kiss to you my love
Amanda Lopez.
I ask myself
did she love me?
And I answer yes.
Then no.
Then I don't know.
If you've never known kindness
and someone is kind
then isn't kindness love.
If you've always been ignored
and someone pays attention
isn't that love.
You hope it is. You want it to be.
If you're good for nothing
and someone needs you
isn't that needing love.
If you've always been unwanted
and someone wants you
isn't that love.
You hope it is. You want it to be.
Lesbian Mother-by Daria Mitchell.
I see you coming home at two in the morning
You're breath smelling of alchohol.
But hark! Who be this by thine side?
You kiss her.
And the inside of me drops.
The wait is murder.
I want justice now,
You are too intoxicated.
Finally, morning comes.
Father is sitting by you, reading.
For a moment I am lost-
Look at him. So innocent.
This will hurt him.
But it has to be said.
The fire spews out, uncontrolled and uncontrollable.
Accounts of last night, of the witnessing.
Both their heads fall.
"There is something you must know", he says to me.
He knew all along.
"We wanted to wait until you were out of school", the Jezzebel says.
"I've known it for years" he says.
"Wanted to wait"? I ask innocently. "For what-so you could leech off of him?"
"So you could take his earnings and shelter and cheat on him?"
The Jezzebel starts to cry.
"You've got it wrong", she bleats.
"How did it feel to cheat on him?" I demand. "Did it thrill you to hurt him?
What did it feel like to turn the imaginary blade inside of him?"
She sobs uncontrollably now, muttering noise that cannot be understood.
"It looks as if you have the best of both worlds, seductress.
A man to support you, a man for your fodder of sadism.
And your dyke, to revel in the pain you have caused."
He screams at me. He actually screams at me.
"Did you lack the backbone to stand up for yourself, father?". I inquire.
"How did she coax you unto her leeching?
Didn't you know every time she patted you on the back she was looking for a soft spot to stick the dagger in?"
He looks solemn.
She looks with eyes begging for mercy.
The seductress reaches for him.
His eyes turn to coals and her hand is pushed away.
"DID it feel good?" He demands.
She comes apart.
I can no longer bear the forces.
I retire to my room
to sink up within myself.
To shut off the world.
The knock comes soon.
"There's something you must understand",
the muffled voice says to me.
I leap up, and the door is thrust open.
She stands there like a child begging for milk.
She sickens me.
I storm to her abode,
drawers flinging and and closets being forced open.
I find them.
Little gifts, little construction paper-colored gifts of a happy birthday,
a happy christmas,
an I love you, mommie.
I look at the stick figure mother, with the stick-figure child.
The lighter comes out.
And I'm looking at a stick-figure mommie dies in flames. I look up, and I see the Jezzebel is screaming.
I can't hear her, though.
She seems so far away.
I can't feel myself,
can't feel the pain. I'm looking at myself from one thousand miles away.
I see her fall to the floor,
the ashes fall with her.
She looks so sad.
My body twirls the lighter in it's hands,
oblivious to my will.
I look at her, whimpering there, on her knees.
She looks up at me, anguish on her face, begging me without words.
"I hope you burn like that when you go to hell", I hear a voice ring out.
I realize that voice is mine.
I walk out, going to a destination that escapes me.
I realize there is nothing inside of me.
I am hollow.
Just a shell.
Clare.
Before it was clear how she loved me or how I loved her, our futures intertwined. I would wake to find her photographing me her 3 cats nestled in my bed. I would turn the corner and she would catch another shot of my curious face. I would open the door to our apartment and her lense would click shut. I often heard her up in the night coughing and trying to breathe. I wanted to join her in her bed and comfort her. I only allowed myself a keen unconsious alertness to her every move. Her passing in the hall would bring me to a sitting position even before my eyes opened. And evertime with a smiling face she'd enter my room and ask what it was that caused me to wake and smiling back I would say "why your passing by my way". She would sit with me a while and I imagined waking with her next to me, and only once did she come to lay her head at the foot of my bed. Unfortunately, I kicked her in the head.
Donokio Lpekoi.
i was once beaten by a black gangster just b'coz i'm an asian.
S. L. Amanda Honea.
Constant thoughts running
through my head...
Neverending my dread...
Wondering from day to day...
Just waiting to see what
is going to happen to me...
Will I live...
Or will I die...
Than I wonder Why...
Why are these thoughts here...
Will I always have them, or
will they leave and let me breathe...
Unknowingly I walk down the
street...
Wondering who I will meet...
Greet...
Or even wash their feet...
Life seems so unplanned...
Oblivious to whats next...
jenny yates.
Greetings, lesbians through space and time. It's the end of the 20th century and many of us are linked through words, ideas, little chunks of mental energy which hurtle through space. Others are steadfastly reclaiming the land. Still others work on the psychic plane. I send greetings to all those who walk this path, those who join with others, those who work alone to build stronger selves. Let us create beauty, and let us be kind to each other, and something good will grow out of this time of alienation and fear.
Shannon Hardgrove.
Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one. I long for what's considered evil. I yern for the touch, the taste but am denied. What is a female to do? I want a mate but really I'm frightened of what they will say, and who i am.
Barbara Hammer.
Hello Everyone, I am in Paris on my last night walking the streets while a pink sky falls to grey to noir. This has been an incredible trip for me. I have shown The Female Closet at the Festival de Films des Femmes in Creteil, a suburb of Paris. Last night the awards were given and the video documentary on the closeted and not so closeted lives of three women artists (Alice Austen, Hannah Hoch, and Nicole Eisenman) won the Special Award of the Festival. I was so happy and I wore the new sparkle scarf my lover gave me that I flashed on stage. The African directors sections---all women--- was a great theme of the festival. Love to all, Barbara Hammer
Home | Dream | Style | Sex | Biography | Politics | Art | Relationships | Adventure
© 1996 Barbara J. Hammer / Webmaster