"Who are you?" I ask the condo, so-named for the cypress trees cleared out by developers, "and how long do you plan to stay?"

FOR REST AND RELATION

here, now

Time can exist as an object, for rest or relation, a part of and a place for life. A bag of old dust becomes a cup or a home when mixed with the right amount of water from a free-flowing source.
Low season at the solstice. The sun is blaring and loud. The neighbors and I share starfruit on the sidewalk as it creeps out against dust on the horizon. My eyes are dry. I’m following the quick shadow of a breeze making its way through bright bright heat looking for a touch of camaraderie before the traffic chases it away. 

time, labor, intention

here, then

Bright pigment, when mixed into a pastel slip and applied to a rough and mottled surface, shows cracks in the mortar, fingerprints and tool marks, a catch of the day’s minutiae.
Slow design for a steady life placed in a big green bin. Quaint walls “built for a hurricane”, roof tiles and scuppers all made or molded by hand, blown into the neighbor’s yard. Plaster-and-lathe vessels for the living with surfaces that feel soft and thick like the air you’re breathing and bell towers that still sing if you listen hard enough.
I look to the tannins of gilded swampland for guidance, and then east at the corner of Van Buren and Federal. I notice someone managed to protect the mango tree. I say a soft prayer for its safety and carry on.

KARST FOUNDATION

here, again

Incised lines map out the neighborhood so that it’s easy to navigate on the new, darkened pavement in a trade war of trends and emboldened architecture. A lack of tree cover makes it hard to cool down.
Neon-green algae and fungus proliferate. Each year we lose a landmark or ten as the mix of salty wet heat seeps into 100-year old dade pine, giving way to developers and termites who feast on Timeless Revivalism.
New builds will go up, but these are the hallowed grounds. The flood marks on the walls and wings in the corners will not fail to touch us all.

salty deterioration

REORIENTATION

In our version of Venice [no-wake zone], we put in circuses for the visitors and we dance until the flood comes. Loss is as-usual and ongoing, bought, sold, or totaled by crane and storm. What was once a refuge in harsh land is now gated suburbia. Collective memory demolished, cleared,  Posted: No Trespassing, Set for Redevelopment.

meet the lizards > LIZA

  1. putter about

  2. find rhythm

  3. become dirt

liza is a born and bred south floridian, multidisciplinary artist and the anole behind the curtain at dirty lizard studio. [she / they] has concentrated on ceramics for the last eleven years.
prior to launching dirty lizard, liza supplemented a highly experimental practice teaching at community pottery studios and non-profit institutions around broward county, with recent workshops at the Museum of Discovery & Science and the Hollywood Arts and Culture Center.
liza went to the university of north florida in jacksonville, where she received a B.A. in interdisciplinary studies [social theory] and minored in ceramics.

dots and lines on my mind

current / available work

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