Skip to main content

This is your Donation message.

S.B.Fuller (BFA ’12)

Published April 21, 2012

Lost Lake Fountain, large format documentary print of installation (found pipes, wood, found rake, tubing, turned wood, wax phallus, fragment of found patio furniture, branch, twig, found plastic ring, acrylic tubing, wax phallus with found glass shard lodged in head, found fishing pole, wax figures of Peter Pan fellating Captain Hook, lake water), 30”x30”

“Alone in his forest dwelling, an ogre had spent years building machines to force his visitors to make love to one another: machines with pulleys, chains, clocks, collars, leather leggings, metal breast plates, oscillatory, pendular, or rotating dildos. One day, some adolescents who had lost their way, seven or eight brothers, entered the ogre’s house.

No one knows if the straps closed in upon them, or if the boys’ curiosity was such that they closed them themselves. In any case, embedded into one another, two by two, and condemned to ejaculate until the end of time, they became the machinery of a factory without electricity and the slaves of a corpse. For they did not know that the ogre, in his attic, was dead.”
-The Screwball Asses, Guy Hocquenghem-

Fountains monumentalize excess and were here assembled, installed, and documented as an ongoing series of reconciliatory, albeit dead-end gestures.  In cruising grounds, spaces of queer and serially impermanent bodily unions, these unanchored fountains were installed to drain fluids and intent from/through/on whitewashed queer relics and impermanently assemblaged on-site materials.  Driven by popping fluid-filled prophylactics, running faucets, flushing urinals, spit, and a pelvic-thrust-powered pump system, these fountains of queerly constellated bodies and flows were documented and left, finished and dry, on-site indefinitely as serially indecent tributes/unhingings of hermeneutic machinery, and dead monuments having discharged out into nothing.