It's Mass murder.
It's the world and then the reversal of the world.
It's trying to find the beautiful inside of a horrible world of hypocrisy and contradiction.
It's optimism and pessimism in a dead lock. It's two stories. It's bad blood.
It's a caged thought.
It's a purple light giving a performance.
It's our living room 1975-1988.
It's an airport convention room, it's a bank, a hospital, a hotel.
The wall, a dance club, a parking lot
It's a flight simulator that makes you believe you’re in the sky when you’re actually crashing into nothing - miles away from real life.
It's the disillusionment of the Vietnam generation, it’s my parents.
It's keyboard lessons, gymnastics, those flowers my mom loves, Vivaldi the four seasons, Pink Floyd, The Ramones.
It’s a room that was both my sister's place and my grandma’s. It's the records, the boom box, Detroit "wheelz" radio, the two cockatiel birds, Rudy, and heavy metal.
It's the black and white TV, the alcohol, the reading, the neon knitted Afghans, the curly grey hair, the heart problems, the smoke, and the cigarettes. It's also the matchboxes, the taste, the piano, the white carpet, the abalone box in the ladies room, the jewelry.
It's a highway underpass.
It's sleeping in the street. It's train hopping. It's April, it's her amputated leg.
It's a big mess, seriously
It's a place to think about it.
It's the fog and the mist.
It's asking why - it's hoping for a peaceful place.
It's a broken heart for the world.
Samara Golden (b. 1973 Michigan) received her MFA from Columbia University in 2009 Golden has exhibited extensively throughout the United States and Europe including institutions such as MOCA, Los Angeles and the Sculpture Center in New York City. She is represented by Night Gallery, Los Angeles, and Canada, New York City. Her recent work has been written about in Mousse, Art in America, Flash Art, and Artforum.