New York fine arts photographer Amy Bassin and writer Mark Blickley work together on text based art collaborations and videos. Their series, Dream Streams, was featured as an art installation at the 5th Annual NYC Poetry Festival and excerpts were published in the Columbia Journal of Literature and Art. Their video, Speaking In Bootongue, was selected for the London Experimental Film Festival.
They recently published a text based art book, Weathered Reports: Trump Surrogate Quotes From the Underground’ (Moria Books, Chicago). The publisher has sent their resistance book to the White House and members of Congress.
I’m a dead frog and I don’t say this with any pity or understanding or shame it’s just an observation that people seem to like us, like us a bit too much because they like to push hooks through our jaws and cast us out to sea as well as amputate us for fine dining and draw us as a cartoon-shuffling cigar-smoking smart ass and they like to blame us when they choke on the phlegm in their throats and they swear that some of us give them hideous skin infections while the evil ones enjoy tossing us into their steamy potions as the younger ones imitate us with a game of leaps and crashes, perhaps because we abandon our young and we larger ones like to eat the smaller ones, and some of us are poisonous and have arrows dipped in our blood for killing others, and snakes like to slide along with our swallowed bulges straining inside their bellies, and we are stunned and frozen and sliced open alive by school children with sharp tools, yet we still swim and splash and smile because the sun warms our cold blood and reflects our moist green that gives summer its most vibrant color, and the Chinese believe there is a toad in the moon, not a man, and the Japanese consider us good luck, and that luck includes the growing of long legs to hop away from dinosaurs which is why we are the best leapers on earth and millions of years ago became the first animal with any backbone to live on land and Shakespeare wrote that we wear a precious jewel in our head and best of all, beneath the summer stars the sky is filled with our clucks and clicks and croaks of romance and camaraderie sprinkled within a flying feast of buzzing wings and microscopic swimmers, and so this is what dead frogs will do just given the chance, a chance that will always destroy us.