Not Yet Here
by Adrien Crossman
Exhibition Statement:
Not Yet Here is a solo exhibition of new works by Adrien Crossman that investigates notions of safety and visibility through the colour safety orange, asking: how do we balance the desire to feel truly seen with the real threat of violence resulting from being visible in the wrong context? Reflecting on normative binary systems that police and regulate the categories of gender and sex, the works consider legibility in relation to gender markers, such as the gender-neutral ‘x’ that is now available on some forms of government issued ID. Incorporating the high visibility hue known for its use in traffic cones and hunting and construction gear, Not Yet Here questions how the colour of safety orange may relate to the idea of a ‘safer space’, highlighting the tension between safety and visibility, and asking who is being protected.
X, written by Adrienne Crossman:
“X”
No gender, no future, no problem
What is it inside nature that turns a color into danger?[1]
They say that beauty grows in darkness
What is it that grows here?
I wear this colour(collar) to feel safe,
to feel
is it narcissism or self care? (I’m not sure what the difference is)
I used to think I was transphobic, then I realized
I
just
hate myself
Is self-loathing a kink?
Gender reveal death drive party.
Billy Ray Belcourt speaks of suicide as a form of resistance
loneliness as an estrangement from the present
what if depression was a shared affect that could bring us together?[2]
Gay as in ‘happy’, queer as in abolish the police.
‘x’ marks the symbolism of progress
To don an ‘x’ on government issued ID under the header of ‘sex’
why go to the trouble?
a third option that points not to a gender, but to
the absence
of binary legibility
leaving little room for the permeable borders
soft edges that encase / protect these categories of gender and sex[3]
An East coast insurance company decided to charge ‘gender x’ clients the same rates as
women, rather than men.
Is this progress?
‘X’ can indicate privacy
‘X’ can be a form of outing
How do you read me?
how is my queerness read? my gender?
how do the markers shift?
what is legible, intelligible?
Freedom within restraint
the indexes of my body:
a collar(colour) previously worn
a harness
clamps intended to cause sensation attached to grafted skin that can no longer feel
to form connection between numbness
my imprint on your skin
Jacob Hale refers to SM as ‘gender technology’[4]
Bondage and bandage
bound atop a wound
How much of who I am has been formed by shame? By navigating around it, looking away,
transforming its meaning, denying, transmuting it.
How much of who I am is based on who I have tried so hard not to be?
I realized that fucking was
an escape
a pathway to briefly be outside of this world, this shame
to have my body and desires
not only validated,
but celebrated
something that feels akin to survival
but that’s a lot of pressure to put onto another person
There’s an analogy about a blazing fire in a room behind closed doors – neglected, contained.
Like trauma, the door must be opened to begin extinguishing it. Opening the door lets in a rush
of oxygen, feeding the flames.
The threat, the pain, becomes much more acute once faced head on.
Blaze Orange; Hazard Orange; Hunter Orange; Luminous Orange
‘DANGER DUE TO __________’
‘END TRANSPHOBIA’
‘___________ AHEAD’
A warning sign
reflects or shifts
your image back
“There seems to be a kind of spiral shape to these trajectories of identity”[5]
To be seen by you (K)
before I could wholly see myself
to be loved and recognized
for exactly who I am
to never be easy
to be loved and appreciated even more so
recognition
legibility
Identity affirmed through relation
formed by community
I realize that my desires and feelings of safety are rooted less in an attraction to a specific
gender, rather a proximity to queerness – read: distance from heterosexuality.
‘X’ marks a location
in between two polarities
‘X’ marks the absence of fixed identity
An engraved message
a takeaway
something soft
A harbinger of hope
that tells us
to exist
is enough
to hold us here
You said your aura is orange and I said it feels like you. Orange is a color I don’t
know very well but it does really suit you. Sweet and brazen. Safety color.[6]
[1] Pico, Tommy. Nature Poem. Tin House Books, 2017.
[2] Billy Ray Belcourt in conversation with Ann Cvetkovich. “Feminist Futures in A Time of Pandemic: Loneliness and the Affective Life of Settler Colonialism”, hosted by Carleton University. 11 Feb. 2021.
[3] Hale, C. Jacob. “Leatherdyke Boys and Their Daddies: How to Have Sex without Women or Men.” Social Text, no.
[4] Ibid
[5] Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky. “A Response to C. Jacob Hale.” Social Text, no. 52/53, 1997, p. 237-239
[6] Zornado , Clara, and Jo Barchi. “Correspondence on Erotics and Karaoke Rooms.” We Want It All: An Anthology of Radical Trans Poetics, edited by Andrea Abi-Karam and Kay Gabriel, Nightboat Books, New York, 2021.
Artist Biography:
Adrien Crossman (they/them) is a queer and non-binary white settler artist, educator, and curator currently residing on the traditional territory of the Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe peoples in Hamilton, Ontario. They hold an MFA in Visual Art from the University of Windsor (2018), and a BFA in Integrated Media with a Minor in Digital and Media Studies from OCAD University (2012). Crossman is interested in the affective qualities of queerness, investigating how queerness can be felt through specific aesthetics and sensibilities. Their work is deeply enmeshed with their queer and trans identity and is attentive to the ways that white supremacy and colonization have shaped dominant understandings of gender and sexuality. Their practice seeks to destabilize these systemic ideas and speculate on more expansive alternatives. In addition to having exhibited across Canada and internationally, Adrien co-founded and co-runs the online arts publication Off Centre and is an Assistant Professor in the School of the Arts at McMaster University.