Chris Kraus (b. 1955, New York, USA)

Written by Chris Kraus

Please use the blue arrow to the right to read the text.

I Love Dick, 1997

By now it was 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Sylvère was triumphant, Chris was desperate. All she’d really wanted, for the past seven days was a chance to kiss and fuck Dick —— , and now all hope was receding, their meeting grew more distant every day, leaving ever-fewer pretexts for her to call. Clearly the letters were unsendable. And Sylvère was so excited by their writing, and aroused by it, and he knew that if there wasn’t another event soon, another point of contact to fuel Chris’ expectations, all this would end. For all these reasons, the pair decided they would write a fax.




Dear Dick,

It’s a pity that we missed each other Sunday morning. It’s funny, both of us thought a lot about your video—so much that we’ve had an idea for a collaborative piece, inspired by and hopefully involving you. It’s kind of like, Calle Art. We’ve written about 50 pages over the last few days and were hoping we could shoot something with you out in Antelope Valley soon before we leave (Dec. 14).

Basically our idea was to paste the text we’ve written all over your car, house and cactus garden. We (i.e., Sylvère) would videotape me (i.e., Chris) doing this—probably a wideshot of all the papers flapping in the breeze. Then, if you like, you could enter and discover it.

I guess the piece is all about obsession, although we wouldn’t think of using images that belong to you without your agreeing to it. What do you think? Are you game?

Best regards,
Chris & Sylvère

But of course the fax was never sent.


© 1997 Chris Kraus; New York, Los Angeles: Semiotext(e)

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