Concerning the works of Room 13: Osseous,

All artwork and words are original to
Hannah Carpenter Pitkin unless noted otherwise.


A Great Man

I cannot image love nor the atoms which make up all things nor can I image God.
I am overwhelmed by existence and the splendor and misery we call history.

All these things are natural to man. I can hold these things like sand between my hands and be comforted because, although the reason and purpose of life is beyond comprehension, it is within us. It is in stones and flowers, too. In the Natural Law. What is within us, I believe, is the reality that Someone, Something created all things. That the very passion of life, of love and hatred, is the acceptance or negation of God.

The poet E.E. Cummings described a lost soul as "a man falling on all sides". William Blake, a believer, was overwhelmed by creation. He once wrote, "I can look at a knot in a tree until it frightens me". Both these statements are radiant with intelligence. They have become art because they have the power to affect our reality, even our souls.

Great art is about transcendence. It elevates like. This is why I try to make great art. It is my vocation, my prayer. Like the clown before the altar, his "prayer", his art, was to perform. Some thought this blasphemy. The aware knew it was the most sublime act of love of which he was capable. 

- Joel Peter Witkin

Feast Of Fools, Mexico City 1990


Sand Mementos

Corner the word smith shift;
Subtle little chin cleft
Cover to cover like this.
Except you and I thrive homeless.

Didn't mean to leave you with all my charmless clippings,
I cool in ice cubes from your fancy dream drippings.
And you can call me The Receiver,
Right or left ear Dream Weaver,
At my side, the Unfolding Songster singing 
Trickster makes this world stronger.

They call me Little Reckless, and him Mister Far Gone;
Side by side we make The Tall One.
He was a wax president, made out with real hair though.
Smells like a beach accident,
A corpse soul in sand mementos.


suck the holiday bones dry


Flannery O'Connor

is absolutely the best.

‎'In my stories a reader will find that the devil accomplishes a good deal of groundwork that seems to be necessary before grace is effective....To insure our sense of mystery, we need a sense of evil which sees the devil as a real spirit who must be made to name himself with his specific personality for every occasion.'

- In the Devil's Territory


Oh! Your bruises look like really big mistakes.
I'd apologize but I think you deserve them.



The letters are in. Deciphering
drifts from the opposite fort.

'This beetle suit can get away with murder,
shovel him out!'
Linear lines thrust
over other ending flames always folding
in a linear world without you.

How to solve the problem of reunion photographs, and
screaming cardboard women traveling on stage through the city,
[always folding, and]

rearranging Dyl's card table that is a third green and
she is smiling too much;
worry about this.

I'm not children
bushes on the hill
chorus line


Chapter 231: When You Broke Your Arm In My Imagination

if it were only a bone
escaping the captivity of you
i would watch with ease
separating the curls behind my ears
but it's more than a fleeting moment,
it's a brother abandoning
the veins and muscle of you
meant for other worlds
and whiles, it doesn't matter
that it hurts you or changes you
it doesn't have hair on its own
and it doesn't cut its fingers
in the shop on the jigsaw


The Mid Summers



 we do real work


Wings Of Desire

Wim Wenders' Wings Of Desire is lyrical. I admire it increasingly, as melodies captivate me, but I would dare to say that all who are listeners hear the rhythm of this work.

This particular piece is exceptionally related to my recent studies and explorations of still film and its relation to time, death, and space. When a moment is captured by a light sensitive material, and hence has the ability to imprison (I use this word presently in relation to my current philosophies (and inner battles) towards photography,) a moment in time, impossible to purely repeat; does that not relate to the ideas of the physical and metaphysical ideal of the 'self'?:

"When the child was a child,
it was the time of these questions:
Why am I me and why not you?
Why am I here and why not there?
When did time begin, 
And where does space end?
Isn't life under the sun just a dream?
Isn't what I see and hear and smell
Just an illusion in front of a world
In front of a world?
Does evil actually exist,
and people who are really evil?
How can it be that this 'me' that I am
Wasn't 'me' before I existed,
And that someday this 'me' that I am
Will no longer be 'me'?"

In many ways Wenders reminds me of Fellini - a film of realities, yet firmly rooted in the dreams of men. Both Wings Of Desire and La Dolce Vita are subconscious (yet blessedly conscious,) looks at the human role from perspectives of men in circumstances of power. Wings Of Desire being the 'power' of the angels. La Dolce Vita being the power of the influential.

The delight of lifting one's head
Out here in the open,
Of seeing the colors
In all men's eyes, enlightened by the sun.

At last mad, no longer alone.
At last mad, at last redeemed.
At last mad, at last at peace.
At last a fool, at last an inner light.

My mother -
She was never my mother.
My father -
My father was my father.

She doesn't love you.
Never did.
And you're faking it too.
Be glad they forgot about you.
You're finally free.

"I want to die and live forever,"
She said.


Brushing Teeth | Smiling | Bleeding Knuckles


'It Or You'

In Pre Production.
Poster by Hannah Pitkin.