Series Entry 23.7

Ksenia Burnasheva

Series Entry 23.7


Description

Series_23

Ksenia Burnasheva & Donald Dunbar

In Series 23, the ambiguities of possession enmesh people’s relationships with others and their surrounding worlds. Donald Dunbar (poetry) and Ksenia Burnasheva (photography) trade pieces back and forth exploring the dynamics involved with these ambiguities. The resulting span of seven highly distilled and controlled, if elusive entries give rise to ideas of individuals and their objects as both simultaneously in and under varying degrees of possession. Such examinations, however, do not reveal a chaotically fluid state of affairs. Instead, possession as a force bleeds in all directions as captured by solemn image and sharp prose, whether found in Burnasheva’s pictured lamppost surrounded by darkness (do we fixate on the brilliant white bulb or the encompassing night?) or Dunbar’s description of a “magnificence that gathers while we fuck” (but does it gather to unleash or overwhelm?).

And, if grand concepts like love, death, and money become little more than predictable red herrings and counterfeits in the series, the artists never resort to pronouncements about loss of fundamental understanding or consuming meaninglessness, which would thus negate any chance for acts of possession whatever. How and why would psychological, spiritual and physical possession remain alluring, let alone possible, if completely illusory possession merely stood in as a way to stave off ambivalence and disorder? Dubar and Burnasheva realize that the battle for possession is very real for those involved and, furthermore, very much desired. The psychological and material boundaries we enforce and undermine for sake of possession help inform our place and possibilities, affirming or bleak, in each other’s lives. As a narrator in one of the pieces admits, “because you wouldn’t let me leave I was finally able to stay.”

The consequence of eye contact 

becomes apparent whenever you say 

“I love you.” When you say “I love you,” 

and the light bulb flickers to the scribble 

of the end of your tongue, I have to feel 

my hope is near its reward. I love 

this movie, the actor’s eyes seem to say, 

and the glow around the projector’s bulb 

wrinkles as it smiles back, and then the 

character is beat to death onscreen. She 

had been in love with someone else too 

much and not enough with herself, not 

enough to be saved. As the interrogator 

spoke her lover’s name, she looked up 

as if to ask “Does he still live?” As we 

leave the theater, I look down into your eyes 

as if to ask “What could I have done?” 

If I am to hope your love is real, 

your look in reply means “You could have 

torched the theater.” If I am not to hope, 

your look means “Nothing.” 


Donald Dunbar

Series Entry 23.6


Description

Series_23

Ksenia Burnasheva & Donald Dunbar

In Series 23, the ambiguities of possession enmesh people’s relationships with others and their surrounding worlds. Donald Dunbar (poetry) and Ksenia Burnasheva (photography) trade pieces back and forth exploring the dynamics involved with these ambiguities. The resulting span of seven highly distilled and controlled, if elusive entries give rise to ideas of individuals and their objects as both simultaneously in and under varying degrees of possession. Such examinations, however, do not reveal a chaotically fluid state of affairs. Instead, possession as a force bleeds in all directions as captured by solemn image and sharp prose, whether found in Burnasheva’s pictured lamppost surrounded by darkness (do we fixate on the brilliant white bulb or the encompassing night?) or Dunbar’s description of a “magnificence that gathers while we fuck” (but does it gather to unleash or overwhelm?).

And, if grand concepts like love, death, and money become little more than predictable red herrings and counterfeits in the series, the artists never resort to pronouncements about loss of fundamental understanding or consuming meaninglessness, which would thus negate any chance for acts of possession whatever. How and why would psychological, spiritual and physical possession remain alluring, let alone possible, if completely illusory possession merely stood in as a way to stave off ambivalence and disorder? Dubar and Burnasheva realize that the battle for possession is very real for those involved and, furthermore, very much desired. The psychological and material boundaries we enforce and undermine for sake of possession help inform our place and possibilities, affirming or bleak, in each other’s lives. As a narrator in one of the pieces admits, “because you wouldn’t let me leave I was finally able to stay.”

Series Entry 23.5

Ksenia Burnasheva

Series Entry 23.5


Description

Series_23

Ksenia Burnasheva & Donald Dunbar

In Series 23, the ambiguities of possession enmesh people’s relationships with others and their surrounding worlds. Donald Dunbar (poetry) and Ksenia Burnasheva (photography) trade pieces back and forth exploring the dynamics involved with these ambiguities. The resulting span of seven highly distilled and controlled, if elusive entries give rise to ideas of individuals and their objects as both simultaneously in and under varying degrees of possession. Such examinations, however, do not reveal a chaotically fluid state of affairs. Instead, possession as a force bleeds in all directions as captured by solemn image and sharp prose, whether found in Burnasheva’s pictured lamppost surrounded by darkness (do we fixate on the brilliant white bulb or the encompassing night?) or Dunbar’s description of a “magnificence that gathers while we fuck” (but does it gather to unleash or overwhelm?).

And, if grand concepts like love, death, and money become little more than predictable red herrings and counterfeits in the series, the artists never resort to pronouncements about loss of fundamental understanding or consuming meaninglessness, which would thus negate any chance for acts of possession whatever. How and why would psychological, spiritual and physical possession remain alluring, let alone possible, if completely illusory possession merely stood in as a way to stave off ambivalence and disorder? Dubar and Burnasheva realize that the battle for possession is very real for those involved and, furthermore, very much desired. The psychological and material boundaries we enforce and undermine for sake of possession help inform our place and possibilities, affirming or bleak, in each other’s lives. As a narrator in one of the pieces admits, “because you wouldn’t let me leave I was finally able to stay.”

1.

Sucking on a penny in our eyes until we started tasting, both of us together, something as sharp as sugar.

2.

Thin slices of cured meat lain across her eyelids. The body, it tortures the soul.

3.

I became afraid of childish things, so much so I very often could not hide it. I trembled as I was approached with a toy or any other item redolent of that particular nostalgia. 

4.

The magnificence that gathers while we fuck. How to describe it? Even in an orgy, eyes, most, were always on us, combing our skin for any hint of our secrets, trying to see their way into our vision, trying to sap our breath to their lungs.

5.

A toy knife is still a knife, in the way that pretend money is still money.

6.

I remember being so timid I wanted my soul to die, but you held me there and put four fingerprints on my cheekbone, and because you wouldn’t let me leave I was finally able to stay. 


Donald Dunbar

Series Entry 23.4


Description

Series_23

Ksenia Burnasheva & Donald Dunbar

In Series 23, the ambiguities of possession enmesh people’s relationships with others and their surrounding worlds. Donald Dunbar (poetry) and Ksenia Burnasheva (photography) trade pieces back and forth exploring the dynamics involved with these ambiguities. The resulting span of seven highly distilled and controlled, if elusive entries give rise to ideas of individuals and their objects as both simultaneously in and under varying degrees of possession. Such examinations, however, do not reveal a chaotically fluid state of affairs. Instead, possession as a force bleeds in all directions as captured by solemn image and sharp prose, whether found in Burnasheva’s pictured lamppost surrounded by darkness (do we fixate on the brilliant white bulb or the encompassing night?) or Dunbar’s description of a “magnificence that gathers while we fuck” (but does it gather to unleash or overwhelm?).

And, if grand concepts like love, death, and money become little more than predictable red herrings and counterfeits in the series, the artists never resort to pronouncements about loss of fundamental understanding or consuming meaninglessness, which would thus negate any chance for acts of possession whatever. How and why would psychological, spiritual and physical possession remain alluring, let alone possible, if completely illusory possession merely stood in as a way to stave off ambivalence and disorder? Dubar and Burnasheva realize that the battle for possession is very real for those involved and, furthermore, very much desired. The psychological and material boundaries we enforce and undermine for sake of possession help inform our place and possibilities, affirming or bleak, in each other’s lives. As a narrator in one of the pieces admits, “because you wouldn’t let me leave I was finally able to stay.”


Ksenia Burnasheva

Series Entry 23.3


Description

Series_23

Ksenia Burnasheva & Donald Dunbar

In Series 23, the ambiguities of possession enmesh people’s relationships with others and their surrounding worlds. Donald Dunbar (poetry) and Ksenia Burnasheva (photography) trade pieces back and forth exploring the dynamics involved with these ambiguities. The resulting span of seven highly distilled and controlled, if elusive entries give rise to ideas of individuals and their objects as both simultaneously in and under varying degrees of possession. Such examinations, however, do not reveal a chaotically fluid state of affairs. Instead, possession as a force bleeds in all directions as captured by solemn image and sharp prose, whether found in Burnasheva’s pictured lamppost surrounded by darkness (do we fixate on the brilliant white bulb or the encompassing night?) or Dunbar’s description of a “magnificence that gathers while we fuck” (but does it gather to unleash or overwhelm?).

And, if grand concepts like love, death, and money become little more than predictable red herrings and counterfeits in the series, the artists never resort to pronouncements about loss of fundamental understanding or consuming meaninglessness, which would thus negate any chance for acts of possession whatever. How and why would psychological, spiritual and physical possession remain alluring, let alone possible, if completely illusory possession merely stood in as a way to stave off ambivalence and disorder? Dubar and Burnasheva realize that the battle for possession is very real for those involved and, furthermore, very much desired. The psychological and material boundaries we enforce and undermine for sake of possession help inform our place and possibilities, affirming or bleak, in each other’s lives. As a narrator in one of the pieces admits, “because you wouldn’t let me leave I was finally able to stay.”

The day after the funeral I took possession of my father’s things, as well as what was meant for my brother, as he had died too. I was sad and not very in control of what I said or did or thought. And so in grief I had probably misunderstood some of what I found in my father’s papers later that night, but in any case, of a particular book my father kept, in which he wrote things I’m sure nobody else ever saw, only this small section, presumably regarding my mother, remains:

Back when we were together, she couldn’t read. Now she knows the law and how to make a sentence enact it. But if she tells anyone about it, well. Watch. What hasn’t she asked? What else? What has she overused? What does she say she’s hungry for? Love? Did you think you knew what it was? A person?

Say you want to live in the history of love rather than, say, the history of war. The history of death. And maybe you, in this desire, call the city inside you. And all the people run to you, through, there, inside you, welcome, yes, oblivious and basically delighted…would you not be responsible for keeping them safe? For not crushing them?

As for my brother’s things, I assume his girlfriend has kept them or disposed of them. As for my mother, I do not know if she has received news of the accident, or if she has died already too. 


Donald Dunbar

Series Entry 23.2


Description

Series_23

Ksenia Burnasheva & Donald Dunbar

In Series 23, the ambiguities of possession enmesh people’s relationships with others and their surrounding worlds. Donald Dunbar (poetry) and Ksenia Burnasheva (photography) trade pieces back and forth exploring the dynamics involved with these ambiguities. The resulting span of seven highly distilled and controlled, if elusive entries give rise to ideas of individuals and their objects as both simultaneously in and under varying degrees of possession. Such examinations, however, do not reveal a chaotically fluid state of affairs. Instead, possession as a force bleeds in all directions as captured by solemn image and sharp prose, whether found in Burnasheva’s pictured lamppost surrounded by darkness (do we fixate on the brilliant white bulb or the encompassing night?) or Dunbar’s description of a “magnificence that gathers while we fuck” (but does it gather to unleash or overwhelm?).

And, if grand concepts like love, death, and money become little more than predictable red herrings and counterfeits in the series, the artists never resort to pronouncements about loss of fundamental understanding or consuming meaninglessness, which would thus negate any chance for acts of possession whatever. How and why would psychological, spiritual and physical possession remain alluring, let alone possible, if completely illusory possession merely stood in as a way to stave off ambivalence and disorder? Dubar and Burnasheva realize that the battle for possession is very real for those involved and, furthermore, very much desired. The psychological and material boundaries we enforce and undermine for sake of possession help inform our place and possibilities, affirming or bleak, in each other’s lives. As a narrator in one of the pieces admits, “because you wouldn’t let me leave I was finally able to stay.”

Series Entry 23.1

Ksenia Burnasheva

Series Entry 23.1


Description

Series_23

Ksenia Burnasheva & Donald Dunbar

In Series 23, the ambiguities of possession enmesh people’s relationships with others and their surrounding worlds. Donald Dunbar (poetry) and Ksenia Burnasheva (photography) trade pieces back and forth exploring the dynamics involved with these ambiguities. The resulting span of seven highly distilled and controlled, if elusive entries give rise to ideas of individuals and their objects as both simultaneously in and under varying degrees of possession. Such examinations, however, do not reveal a chaotically fluid state of affairs. Instead, possession as a force bleeds in all directions as captured by solemn image and sharp prose, whether found in Burnasheva’s pictured lamppost surrounded by darkness (do we fixate on the brilliant white bulb or the encompassing night?) or Dunbar’s description of a “magnificence that gathers while we fuck” (but does it gather to unleash or overwhelm?).

And, if grand concepts like love, death, and money become little more than predictable red herrings and counterfeits in the series, the artists never resort to pronouncements about loss of fundamental understanding or consuming meaninglessness, which would thus negate any chance for acts of possession whatever. How and why would psychological, spiritual and physical possession remain alluring, let alone possible, if completely illusory possession merely stood in as a way to stave off ambivalence and disorder? Dubar and Burnasheva realize that the battle for possession is very real for those involved and, furthermore, very much desired. The psychological and material boundaries we enforce and undermine for sake of possession help inform our place and possibilities, affirming or bleak, in each other’s lives. As a narrator in one of the pieces admits, “because you wouldn’t let me leave I was finally able to stay.”