Ness Linn

  • GRASSMATERIAL

    ALT TEXT, IMAGE 1

    A stack of white computer paper sits in the long green grass. Thin black shadows from blades of grass fall on the paper cast by the sun. In the margins are a burn mark and brown smudges of what might be mud. Black text reads:
    “TO CONTAIN
    TO HOLD
    TO HOLD TOGETHER

    the way the objects moved up the
    stairs, moved me actually

    how the sets that were boxed
    became unboxed

    STORAGE

    the time-capsule method I’ve used over
    and over, sometimes burn them later

    the object sets I’ve boxed loosely,
    possibly ceremonially,
    and left on shelf, cabinet door closed,
    not vying for my attention
    (a choice, the object has no needs so
    not neglect)”

    ALT TEXT, IMAGE 2

    A single sheet of white computer paper which has been folded in half and then unfolded sits in the green grass. The blue-gray shadow of a hand is cast by the sun on the bottom half of the paper, overtop a drawing of a hand on the paper. A small burn mark is in the bottom left corner. In typewritten font, it reads:

    “SCALE / HAND

    to feel, to hold in hand

    hand-held scale
    requires a “body,” at least a workable hand,
    capable of grasping and holding
    – I don’t take this for granted (or well I often do)
    – actually I feel the # of times I have left
    – not an infinite renewable resource
    – a breaking down (per nature) machine

    does not require a whole body or perception of one’s own body
    – no face required, but yes eyes

    between worms and bird’s eye view”

    Additional text is scrawled by hand in the lower right corner:

    “what if our hands
    showed us their

    labor
    wear
    pain (I guess that’s the mental layer of suffering)”


Ness Linn is a visual artist working in the realm of abstraction via painting, assemblage, and installation. Their work is in service of aging, grounding, and grieving. They live in Portland, Oregon.