Note Us Here / Poetic Projections
Heidi Lin
→BFA INTAR 2027
Sarkis Antonyan
→BRDD INTAR 2027
Note Us HERE is a performance installation that attempts to re-scale the intimate experience of writing in an iPhone’s Notes app, rendering the headspace into a spatial dreamscape. It captures the body’s dissociation, its inability to interact with the mind’s outpour. Two performers—Lin and Antonyan—struggle in their interior and exterior worlds as their surroundings pulse with externalized thoughts, radiating in melancholy. Situated on both sides of an architectural façade, the performers imagine streams of poetic fragments lifting from their fingers and casting simultaneously across a bedroom and a portion of Providence,
colliding within a central window.
The cheeky and unabashed enlargement of a pocket-sized language asks viewers to reconsider their access to others’ digital and mental worlds, hearkening back to the alleged accessibility of other forms of urban text like street signage and billboards.
The project, unfolding across video, performance, and zine, asks: What is frustrating about writerly release? How can we reach true bodily kinship with any given digital or even built space? What are the stakes in scaling language in an already composed, geometrically defined world?
colliding within a central window.
The cheeky and unabashed enlargement of a pocket-sized language asks viewers to reconsider their access to others’ digital and mental worlds, hearkening back to the alleged accessibility of other forms of urban text like street signage and billboards.
The project, unfolding across video, performance, and zine, asks: What is frustrating about writerly release? How can we reach true bodily kinship with any given digital or even built space? What are the stakes in scaling language in an already composed, geometrically defined world?
The work is the meaning.
The space is the intention.
The room is the arbiter.
The mattress is the vessel.
The phone is the window.
Speak now or forever voyeur
me through your shattered screen our glowing windows.
Bunny pulsates against a TV
Destiny heavy against a heartbeat Lined with volumetric tack
Dirty
slick
Porcelain plates toss into waste bins
Pins inject long-dried membranes. If I
had to ask it’s not the same. I couldn’t
even if I wanted to.
In your room there was a twin-sized bed.
We shared it as lovers.
In foreign places I sleep alone
on queen sized mattresses.
Chiffon rippling through windows I
wonder if I opened them you’d see the
migraine I wear like a halo.
Yea heard ur
a tourist u should come
by for a room tour.
Yea saw you peeking
yea u shud come say hello.
Glitching neon and dewy cheeks
blunt and sweaty
slithering out of cavities.
I have this problem where I pursue people until
they love me. When they do I realize I don’t love
them back.
When I’m home I’m bedridden for four days. The
itch that once gnawed the back of my throat has
unfurled into an atrocity. It’s a kind of masochism
I think I deserve.
—Heidi Lin
Let its dictionary die peacefully, I say to my interior.
Negative ions scramble up the throat like
tantrums.
I read it all, abbreviations, tiny faces, times,
whens: so far.
And finally haikus come out of my eyes.
This deprivation has been happening since
SIXTH GRADE.
polar activities blanched broken shifting
waggling arms let the boys hold me
All I wanted was to say something.
Etch it, you frail, damp gill.
Coming comiing comibg cmiingg incoming
gicmiing
Coming to the phone baby my baby
Coming into the throat of my phone
Coming to my phone like a caveman
Coming to my phone to write the heart
Do you come to your phone like I do
Do you want to see my phone
Do you want to open it
Do you want to want
Do you want
—Sarkis Antonyan
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The space is the intention.
The room is the arbiter.
The mattress is the vessel.
The phone is the window.
Speak now or forever voyeur
me through your shattered screen our glowing windows.
Bunny pulsates against a TV
Destiny heavy against a heartbeat Lined with volumetric tack
Dirty
slick
Porcelain plates toss into waste bins
Pins inject long-dried membranes. If I
had to ask it’s not the same. I couldn’t
even if I wanted to.
In your room there was a twin-sized bed.
We shared it as lovers.
In foreign places I sleep alone
on queen sized mattresses.
Chiffon rippling through windows I
wonder if I opened them you’d see the
migraine I wear like a halo.
Yea heard ur
a tourist u should come
by for a room tour.
Yea saw you peeking
yea u shud come say hello.
Glitching neon and dewy cheeks
blunt and sweaty
slithering out of cavities.
I have this problem where I pursue people until
they love me. When they do I realize I don’t love
them back.
When I’m home I’m bedridden for four days. The
itch that once gnawed the back of my throat has
unfurled into an atrocity. It’s a kind of masochism
I think I deserve.
—Heidi Lin
Let its dictionary die peacefully, I say to my interior.
Negative ions scramble up the throat like
tantrums.
I read it all, abbreviations, tiny faces, times,
whens: so far.
And finally haikus come out of my eyes.
This deprivation has been happening since
SIXTH GRADE.
polar activities blanched broken shifting
waggling arms let the boys hold me
All I wanted was to say something.
Etch it, you frail, damp gill.
Coming comiing comibg cmiingg incoming
gicmiing
Coming to the phone baby my baby
Coming into the throat of my phone
Coming to my phone like a caveman
Coming to my phone to write the heart
Do you come to your phone like I do
Do you want to see my phone
Do you want to open it
Do you want to want
Do you want
—Sarkis Antonyan
Sarkis Antonyan wants to throw his cellular device in the water.
Heidi Lin takes a picture of a pigeon.