beauty sleep; luxe hell; tear
2018 - 06

Dear _______,

I have been thinking about Brunhilda often recently. I have attached a reproduction of an image I purchased on Ebay through an antique print dealer. I am not sure whether it’s a legend or history at this point, or if it matters, but because of her I have been thinking about the monument, the quadridga, the mythological sometimes-women commanding chariots scattered around various capital cities as a means of inciting… I’m not sure what.

Brunhilda offers an alternative mythology, sculpture, image, image-object(?) to these larger-than-life, militarized expressions of power and glory and degradation. This woman, a former monarch, sentenced to death by her son for adultery and treason, was dragged by a horse – a mare, specifically – or several mares perhaps, the distance over which and total extent of her injuries unknown, but ultimately I suppose we can conclude that she was dragged to death and there was a horse involved.

If you don’t have any horses on hand, you can drag me in a long glittering gown behind a pink Lamborghini, a monster truck, a sled pulled by huskies, a herd of ox, three butch women on dirtbikes, or my four immediate family members. The sequins will leave a sweet trail.


Blackstaff Mill, Belfast