Love Letters Leave No Trace: Confession (the red shoot)

Love Letters Leave No Trace is a multipart, many year performance and documentation project that explores the environmental, emotional, and psychological impact of human celebration.  Inspired by the imagery of children’s birthday parties, Love Letters is a series of monochromatic ritualistic “love letters” in which balloons bearing text are spontaneously installed in a landscape by the daughter of the artist.  These ritual performance installations are documented, and then carefully removed leaving no trace.  The debris from the celebratory love letter is collected to be built into functional objects for later use.  

Each chapter of the project explores a different color palette, period of childhood development, and text.  

Confession/the red shoot

What it costs.  Big secret.  Come to the party.  The secret life of the children of sex workers.   The price of intimacy.  Real freedom.  Free space.  This is free space.  Birthday: a confession.  

The Story: What it costs.   

This is a free space. I made it free because everything outside costs something. This space is free for you to experiment.  But there’s a catch.  People are going to question you. They may find you exotic or use your story as an example.  You don’t have to tell them in the first place, but by making this for you, I gave you a hard choice from the very beginning of your life.  A choice about honesty and true stories and how much the world gets to know about you.  A choice about stigma, and safety, and laws.   I’m sorry that you have to make that choice so early.  But I don’t regret it.  Not at all.  Because look at this beautiful space.  If you choose to invite anyone in here, know that they are always welcome.  But you’ll have to tell them about me.  Because that’s what it costs.  

When I’m away, I’m working. I’m thinking of you. and missing you.  and sometimes grateful for some space. I want to remind you. that when I’m away. I always come back. But that is a message for a future you. this is what it costs. and the relative freedom of our lives. you pay that price. by being without a mom sometimes.  by being the child of a person who could be considered a criminal.  

A confession.

Each of these cards is a hotel key from a night i spent away from you working.  I’ve been collecting them for years.  Consider them a border of protection. a magic spell of accumulation.  There are no shortcuts.  This is what it costs.