Afterword, Sep 22, 2019
Every Ocean Hughes
Help. I helped. Florrie helped. How do we help one, a loved one, and how do we help more? Help the Dead. Just last month I presented a new performance called Help the Dead. ‘When I said help the dead, I meant you, I meant you and me, I meant you.’ We’ve got to make plans. I’ve been studying what it can be to help, help people die and help the dead. I helped Enid. I didn’t write what that actually means. But we can talk about it. Barbara and Florrie helped.
When I started this interview with Barbara I had been working on ‘queer death’ for over two years. I knew Barbara was sick again, but living half an earth away, I hadn’t seen her in a long time. My conviction to speak with Barbara, to interfere in her waning days, came from my knowledge of her personality—I knew she would want to share, and I knew we could be frank, bold, and bare about it. I knew she would speak from an embodied place, from a queer body, and that my wanting to question the aesthetics of death wouldn’t feel obtuse or unsentimental to her. This is how I started. But mid-way through this correspondence you see us both waiver ‘… Isn’t there more resonance, more friendship? Is this how we should be talking to each other?’ I still don’t know. But I suppose it is one part of many, a snapshot of two people queering death in conversation. Looking for a language in this field and loosing language in the process.
Barbara was working and reporting up until the end and from the edge. While we were corresponding, I had a keen awareness of her fortitude, endurance, will and grace. Her drive and fire. Barbara, having lived and pioneered the emergence of lesbian cinema and representation, having been a first and an outlier, she was acutely aware of community, history and legacy. And she was driven by that up to and through the end of her life—archiving and granting, engaging and teaching. She was speaking from the edge of alive. She was answering my questions, and questions from Masha Gessen, Corrine Fitzpatrick, the New York State Legislature and so many others. Her last work was in the space of dying. How can I share it?
Barbara helped.
Barbara of big energy and big love. Pleasure and experimentation her guides.
Barbara helped.
We need advocates, guardians and guides—in the space of living and dying and dead.
Barbara helped.
Every Ocean Hughes
Help. I helped. Florrie helped. How do we help one, a loved one, and how do we help more? Help the Dead. Just last month I presented a new performance called Help the Dead. ‘When I said help the dead, I meant you, I meant you and me, I meant you.’ We’ve got to make plans. I’ve been studying what it can be to help, help people die and help the dead. I helped Enid. I didn’t write what that actually means. But we can talk about it. Barbara and Florrie helped.
When I started this interview with Barbara I had been working on ‘queer death’ for over two years. I knew Barbara was sick again, but living half an earth away, I hadn’t seen her in a long time. My conviction to speak with Barbara, to interfere in her waning days, came from my knowledge of her personality—I knew she would want to share, and I knew we could be frank, bold, and bare about it. I knew she would speak from an embodied place, from a queer body, and that my wanting to question the aesthetics of death wouldn’t feel obtuse or unsentimental to her. This is how I started. But mid-way through this correspondence you see us both waiver ‘… Isn’t there more resonance, more friendship? Is this how we should be talking to each other?’ I still don’t know. But I suppose it is one part of many, a snapshot of two people queering death in conversation. Looking for a language in this field and loosing language in the process.
Barbara was working and reporting up until the end and from the edge. While we were corresponding, I had a keen awareness of her fortitude, endurance, will and grace. Her drive and fire. Barbara, having lived and pioneered the emergence of lesbian cinema and representation, having been a first and an outlier, she was acutely aware of community, history and legacy. And she was driven by that up to and through the end of her life—archiving and granting, engaging and teaching. She was speaking from the edge of alive. She was answering my questions, and questions from Masha Gessen, Corrine Fitzpatrick, the New York State Legislature and so many others. Her last work was in the space of dying. How can I share it?
Barbara helped.
Barbara of big energy and big love. Pleasure and experimentation her guides.
Barbara helped.
We need advocates, guardians and guides—in the space of living and dying and dead.
Barbara helped.
Afterword, Sep 22, 2019
Every Ocean Hughes
Help. I helped. Florrie helped. How do we help one, a loved one, and how do we help more? Help the Dead. Just last month I presented a new performance called Help the Dead. ‘When I said help the dead, I meant you, I meant you and me, I meant you.’ We’ve got to make plans. I’ve been studying what it can be to help, help people die and help the dead. I helped Enid. I didn’t write what that actually means. But we can talk about it. Barbara and Florrie helped.
When I started this interview with Barbara I had been working on ‘queer death’ for over two years. I knew Barbara was sick again, but living half an earth away, I hadn’t seen her in a long time. My conviction to speak with Barbara, to interfere in her waning days, came from my knowledge of her personality—I knew she would want to share, and I knew we could be frank, bold, and bare about it. I knew she would speak from an embodied place, from a queer body, and that my wanting to question the aesthetics of death wouldn’t feel obtuse or unsentimental to her. This is how I started. But mid-way through this correspondence you see us both waiver ‘… Isn’t there more resonance, more friendship? Is this how we should be talking to each other?’ I still don’t know. But I suppose it is one part of many, a snapshot of two people queering death in conversation. Looking for a language in this field and loosing language in the process.
Barbara was working and reporting up until the end and from the edge. While we were corresponding, I had a keen awareness of her fortitude, endurance, will and grace. Her drive and fire. Barbara, having lived and pioneered the emergence of lesbian cinema and representation, having been a first and an outlier, she was acutely aware of community, history and legacy. And she was driven by that up to and through the end of her life—archiving and granting, engaging and teaching. She was speaking from the edge of alive. She was answering my questions, and questions from Masha Gessen, Corrine Fitzpatrick, the New York State Legislature and so many others. Her last work was in the space of dying. How can I share it?
Barbara helped.
Barbara of big energy and big love. Pleasure and experimentation her guides.
Barbara helped.
We need advocates, guardians and guides—in the space of living and dying and dead.
Barbara helped.
Every Ocean Hughes
Help. I helped. Florrie helped. How do we help one, a loved one, and how do we help more? Help the Dead. Just last month I presented a new performance called Help the Dead. ‘When I said help the dead, I meant you, I meant you and me, I meant you.’ We’ve got to make plans. I’ve been studying what it can be to help, help people die and help the dead. I helped Enid. I didn’t write what that actually means. But we can talk about it. Barbara and Florrie helped.
When I started this interview with Barbara I had been working on ‘queer death’ for over two years. I knew Barbara was sick again, but living half an earth away, I hadn’t seen her in a long time. My conviction to speak with Barbara, to interfere in her waning days, came from my knowledge of her personality—I knew she would want to share, and I knew we could be frank, bold, and bare about it. I knew she would speak from an embodied place, from a queer body, and that my wanting to question the aesthetics of death wouldn’t feel obtuse or unsentimental to her. This is how I started. But mid-way through this correspondence you see us both waiver ‘… Isn’t there more resonance, more friendship? Is this how we should be talking to each other?’ I still don’t know. But I suppose it is one part of many, a snapshot of two people queering death in conversation. Looking for a language in this field and loosing language in the process.
Barbara was working and reporting up until the end and from the edge. While we were corresponding, I had a keen awareness of her fortitude, endurance, will and grace. Her drive and fire. Barbara, having lived and pioneered the emergence of lesbian cinema and representation, having been a first and an outlier, she was acutely aware of community, history and legacy. And she was driven by that up to and through the end of her life—archiving and granting, engaging and teaching. She was speaking from the edge of alive. She was answering my questions, and questions from Masha Gessen, Corrine Fitzpatrick, the New York State Legislature and so many others. Her last work was in the space of dying. How can I share it?
Barbara helped.
Barbara of big energy and big love. Pleasure and experimentation her guides.
Barbara helped.
We need advocates, guardians and guides—in the space of living and dying and dead.
Barbara helped.