Concerning the works of Room 13: Osseous,

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

23.10.13

when all the rest had crumbled, there among limbs and sore memories and book pages and tin roofs and uneaten but ripe plums, was you. the last man. a

29.6.13

Friday, June 29 2013: Rest

Two 18x24 canvases, one deer skull, nails, wood, rope, acrylic, and spray paint.

23.6.13

What is it about Duty,
it makes you cringe
it makes you wet

Lost family
Lost

19.6.13

I love you because I know you.

17.6.13

In The Keep

And the tea leaves shown a dark dagger. Point and point again.


10.6.13

Chapter 6: Before The Brainpan, Before The Alligator Shoes, Before The End/The Well

The countdown started when she lifted her head. Three renegades working for the underground law. What's worst is the crime was justified. Passion is a pussy and she had left it behind long ago. But the word righteous could be found in block letters written in faded ink below her left breast. And it was there the first bullet caught. In a moment flesh was torn, a rib was snapped, and a heart burst. No more postcards from the desert. A crow flew from the ash.

21.5.13

17.4.13

You've got a gold front tooth. I saw it from my seat. I'd pay you good money but I like it where it is. Your mouth is rich, boy. Use your words like an adult.

15.4.13

And Said With Such Ease, The Lady Vanished; Red Fingertips Of Rose, Angled Merriment And Equal Diminution

I am absolutely positive,
The red I just pasted on that canvas,
The wet I wiped from my cheek,
The sobriety I forfeit,
The angelic hue I cast,
The tone of my voice when I wake,
The way I use my thumbs to type,
The noises you hear from the hall,
The small whispers of a child,
The need,
The mess,
The life of me,

It's pretend like _______ said so.
_________ didn't make up the questions.
And lord knows the answers aren't there.

The way of it all is dismissed.
It never came so it never left.
'Was'
"Is'
"Forgotten'

14.4.13

i'm a better hack than i am a hoodlum
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 reciever
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 tho,
smells like a beach accident, a corpse soul and sand mementos.
when such a terrible emptiness masticates you, and your bones splinter and your mind expires, and the only thing left is to sit alone and feel the teeth above and below and within you. that is when the world breaks. not long ago you felt wide eyed, but today the purpose is null. an empty hull of a ship full of broken bottles and ugly mirrors.

The well, the well. The water hung.

___ of greatness, whether stature affords a staggering difference; unknown. it is simple, i remember always touching on the razed road where one can with exceptional stupidity and curiosity, reach into the dark chasms of another world, so to speak. it's not living, in fact it's entirely dead. but what lingers there is the afterthought; every great revelation ever that entered our atmosphere, however brief, however static or mad. i let my fingers trace the wet bricks of that reservoir as one might in attempts to make a glass chime, but of the coaxing choirs below me, i cling to the most haunting drone. the deep dissonance. it lulls me into a bane that i have willingly nurtured . my hands are wet not with water, but with overflowing cascades of liquor and horrors and bewitching sirens that croon to me and everyone i touch. a nefarious baritone timbre lulls between floorboard and the small of my back. a fitting venue for the symphony of a glorious and coruscating madness. calm, rest.  and i see little beady now, with her aching lullabies that waft over tin roofs until the chickens come home to roost.

31.3.13

The Guards

video

14.3.13

Feast


He that feasts will dream of warn boars and shall awake still, a mortal.

11.3.13

hungry little piggy

Out of all of them, I knew she was the one. I took her home. She was mine forever.

9.3.13

7.3.13


24.2.13

white boys
coming down the alley
scratching
telling lies


what a corner
to lay my head

31.1.13

does that make your hair stand up?

20.1.13

when in doubt of why you are the gleam, remember the spaces between, acres of time among you that lingers in a silent want, that is the unforgiving need of each other in a mold unsuited for romance or words or even action. the world doesn't fit neatly between covers and it certainly can't sustain unforgiving romance. growing up is hard and furthermore doesn't exist.

16.1.13

The Turin Horse [Exerpt]

Bernard: “I’ve run out of palinka. Would you give me a bottle?”
 
Ohlsdorfer: “Give him some… Why didn’t you go into town?" 
 
Bernard: "The wind’s blown it away."
 
Ohlsdorfer: "How come?"
 
Bernard: "It’s gone to ruin."
 
Ohlsdorfer: "Why would it go to ruin?"
 
Bernard: "Because everything’s in ruins, everything’s been degraded, but I could say that they’ve ruined and degraded everything. Because this is not some kind of cataclysm, coming about with so-called innocent human aid. On the contrary, it’s about man’s own judgement over his own self, which of course God has a hand in, or dare I say: takes part in. And whatever he takes part in is the most ghastly creation that you can imagine. Because you see the world has been debased. So it doesn’t matter what I say because everything has been debased that they’ve acquired and since they’ve acquired everything in a sneaky, underhand fight, they’ve debased everything. Because whatever they touch – and they touch everything – they’ve debased. This is the way it was until the final victory. Until the triumphant end. Acquire debase, debase, acquire. Or I can put it differently if you like: to touch, debase and thereby acquire, or touch, acquire and thereby debase. It’s been going on like this for centuries. On, on, and on. This and only this, sometimes on the sly, sometimes rudely, sometimes gently, sometimes brutally but it has been going on and on. Yet only in one way, like a rat attacks from ambush. Because for this perfect victory it was also essential that the other side… That is, everything that’s excellent, great in some way and noble should not engage in any kind of fight. There shouldn’t be any kind of struggle, just the sudden disappearance of one side, meaning the disappearance of the excellent, the great and the noble. So that by now these winning winners who attack from ambush rule the earth, and there isn’t a single tiny nook where one can hide something from them. Because everything they can lay their hands on is theirs. Even things we think they can’t reach but they do reach are also theirs, because the sky is already theirs and all our dreams. Theirs is the moment, nature, infinite silence. Even immortality is theirs, you understand? Everything, everything is lost forever! And those many noble great and excellent just stood there, if I can put it that way. They stopped at this point and had to understand and had to accept that there is neither god nor gods. And the excellent, the great and the noble had to understand and accept this night from the beginning. But of course they were quite incapable of understanding it. They believed it and accepted it but they didn’t understand it. They just stood there, bewildered but not resigned until something – that spark from the brain – finally enlightened them. And all at once they realized that there is neither god nor gods. All at once they saw that there is neither good nor bad. Then they saw and understood that if this was so, then they themselves do not exist either! You see, I reckon this may have been the moment when we can say that were extinguished, they burnt out. Extinguished and burnt out like the fire left to smolder in the meadow. One was the constant loser one was the constant winner. Defeat victory defeat victory and one day here in the neighborhood I had to realize, and I did realize, that I was mistaken, I was truly mistaken when I thought that there has never been and could never be any kind of change here on earth. Because believe me, I know now that this change has indeed taken place."

13.1.13


Rum Rat.
Mother Nature is a gold digger.

Freshman Yr. College.


While Watching Endless Humphrey Bogart Films;

With frame, 25" x 31". Ink on paper. 

Odd Fellow

20" x 16" stretched canvas. Walnut ink base. India ink and oil paint.