Beginning at 8pm on July 31st, Lucas Blalock will be signing copies of his self-published book I Believe You, Liar at Eighth Veil in Los Angeles.
Like the book’s opening image of a woman caught open mouthed, mid-sentence, Blalock’s photographs speak in a manner that seems to disclose as much as it withholds—they are semaphores without sense, smoke signals sent at the hour before dawn. Together, they make for a hallucinatory gem of a book, which seems to be structured according to the logic of dreams.
Here’s the “publisher’s description”:
Dear Ms. Patty Pacifica or Current Resident,
I like to think of cooing. it is among the warmer thoughts. especially nice in French which seems a warmer language except when it's not. Isn't it funny how cold warm things used badly become. I would accept your TV if you had it, but seem truly and earnestly (to my own embarrassment) more interested in truth than fact and all that uninterrupted information would bring us back to the palimpsest (a screen) and a possible becoming tedious because the volume controls of strangers - even friends and lovers - are always different from the ones internal. It's probably better if I listen to your speakers instead of getting greedy for headphones, or serialized programming.
As to. . . all of this is more lonely than sad but I am starting to relish this energy of impossible languages and unbridgeable gaps. The failures are all we have and I am no nihilist! I BELIEVE YOU, LIAR!! Light, sad? 'luc' is particle and wave both at the same time. I am torn. can you explain?
Thank you kindly,