One golden eagle, one skull of a male raccoon, skin of one whooping crane

Despite a tremendous weekend that included Lightning Love and The Daredevil Christopher Wright in Ypsilanti, the Hounds Below at the Lager House, a live conjunto band and dancing at the Blue Diamond, a lot of Blatz, Modelo and PBR and a lot of reading,  all of which should have been plenty of fodder, I’ve been coming down with a little sniffle of writer’s block this week, professionally, bloggingly, and otherwise.

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The abandoned future at MOCAD

MOCAD opened a new show on Friday — two solo exhibitions by two Scandinavians that occupy the raw concrete gallery space (yes, we know it used to be an auto dealership) with an outstretching emptiness, blanched of color,  goverened by shape and movement, flickers of shadow and whiteness, mechanical noises and unpeopled silences.

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