Tim Barrus Visual Poetry Blog

Cinematheque Films is an international art program for adolescent boys with a history of sex work and HIV/AIDS and a safe house for the same boys who have been trafficked by sex traffickers.  The model of the safe house being patterned after shelters for abused women and children. Abusers are never granted access. To that end, there is a great deal of confidentiality inherent in the process. Requests to communicate with individual boys are denied. Pedophiles who attempt contact are reported. Invading the life or the medical confidentiality of any boy in the program will not be tolerated.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Sexually Violated Males Infected with HIV/AIDS Debut Art Show in New York City

“Tristan’s Moon” opens to the public, showcasing real stories expressed by young males ensnared in the international commercial sex industries and living with the devastating consequences of HIV/AIDS

NEW YORK, Jan. 2012 — Throughout the United States, one in every six males under the age of 16 is a victim of sexual abuse. More frightening, many are immersed in sex trafficking and at extremely high risk for contracting and dying from HIV/AIDS or related illnesses, substance abuse and suicide. From the beginning of abuse through death, these young people typically suffer in silence with no hope of appropriate or consistent medical care, justice or safety. The sale of children, child prostitution, child pornography, sex trafficking, HIV/AIDS and ongoing human rights violations are the motivation behind a disturbing yet powerful 2012 art show at Real Stories Gallery Foundation in Tribeca, New York.

The “Tristan’s Moon” art installation is the collaborative effort of young artists and their mentors. Thanks to Tim Barrus and Les Garcons de Cinematheque Films, founder and residents of an international safe-house and innovative arts program, these artists have been given a voice through artistic expression. Real Stories initiatives are showcased at http://www.real-stories-gallery.org with a foreword by Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu. Tristan’s Moon is also the first human rights brick-and-mortar gallery of its kind, revealing personal stories through video, poetry, music, tattooing, photo collages and fine art prints.

“Tristan’s Moon spotlights a tragedy experienced by thousands of young males worldwide, including the United States,” says Dr. Rachel Chapple, Real Stories founder, anthropologist and mother of four children (three boys). “One startling story is the vast majority of abusers are married men with children. This and other realities make it a difficult story to share and to witness. But we must, if we are to end the trauma happening on our watch. Tristan’s Moon reveals the creativity and guts of young males forced to survive in an abusive adult environment, and their extraordinary empathy and compassion. We have much to learn from these remarkable young survivors. Tristan’s Moon will be a life-changing experience for anyone who witnesses it.”

Tristan’s Moon is a conversation raised by Real Stories in collaboration with Cinematheque Films and Art for Humanity, which have gifted their international fine art and poetry human rights portfolios. Other notable contributors include composer Philip Glass and Dunvagen Music Publishers (Satyagraha: “confrontation and rescue”); tattoo artist Anthony “Civ” Civorelli, lead singer for the punk band Gorilla Biscuits; and Sumana Witherspoon-Ghosh, assistant to Vanity Fair’s art director.

Tristan’s Moon is located at 36 Laight Street, Tribeca, NY 10013. Please ring the bell to enter (Monday through Friday). For private viewings, ask Rachel at realstoriesgallery@gmail.com; 646-331-0117

Real Stories Gallery Foundation, a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization, facilitates contemporary storytelling and collective witness through the arts for the purpose of raising awareness and evoking social change. Through storytelling, Real Stories works to prevent human rights violations related to HIV/AIDS worldwide.

Cinematheque Films: The Studio Arts Education, and Show Me Your Life students (Real Stories Gallery): Students are allowed access to fair use art materials and mixed media in the teaching of iconic manipulation in photographic, video and film production. Representations and facsimiles posted here are presented as teaching tools and instruments employed to instruct students in the techniques and application of mixed media art and collage. The Digital Millennium Copyright Act allows art-teaching entities the fair use of such materials in classroom and teaching-research applications.

and what alone belongs to us but death. aversion. smoke and bourbon’s sweet bitterness some barren passages. and in the end unfinished. a cloud of skirmishes. the memory of it slaughtered in a siege of means. he means this because he meant that and this stands for this because it has all been done before. it all goes like garbage into the great machine. to predict the future so the animals don’t eat us because we are afraid. little more that memory is last night’s trick standing at the window yielding to morning by the reparation of his precious neck, oh, tough boy. the liquor store is equal to my eye. that and oxycontin with its 20/20 vision snatches from the jaws of death a backbone of corrupted hope awkward, and biting the back of its hand wonders who will guide the horse that makes the night morning in my sheets and the noontide night lurks within this danger by degrees.  still, to ride the junkie’s whore perhaps what i meant was what i said the dream was.

For the boys in my poetry class. Who says poetry is dead. I hope you know that love is alive everywhere you look. I hope you know that you can leave your comfort zones (no promises that it will be safe for anyone ever) and that you can take your poetry to the streets. I hope you know something about the kind of GUTS it takes to do that. To spontaneously break out into poetry about who and what you love. I hope you see that it can be done. You don’t need a stage to do that. You don’t need a Hollywood producer to do that. You don’t need a publisher. You don’t need money. You don’t need print. You don’t need video. You already have all you you need. I hope you know that courage touches everyone. Look at the faces. People are stunned. At the audacity. I hope you know that this is where real poetry lives. Not in a foundation. But in you. I hope you know that.

to touch. just. being. alive.

the art of it and the guts of it escape my morbid hand/ you can deny that they exist but what you see, and what you do not see, and what you deny, and what you do not deny is irrelevant/ it is not germane to their existence that you see them/ your indifference is meaningless because they will demand to live their lives without either your approval or acceptance/ it’s not about you/ it’s about them/ i would wear a pink triangle but i don’t know how to sew/ excuses, excuses/ don’t tell me i cannot do what i do because i am doing it/ i do not need your permission or anyone’s permission/ i am not talking about doing it/ i am doing it/ no, no/ yes, yes/ my question to you is: how do i imbue them with a humanity after they have been through what they have been through/ they would mash their very mothers into the matrix/ yes, yes/ no, no/ yes/ just being alive/ to touch/ is being infected to the bone against the throat/ to touch what/ my blind eyes drilling knives through the masks of stone/ touch shimmering and disappearing/ carving out the deeper dreams of things to touch among the dead/ the past is iridescent streaked with the boatman’s sweat/ self-righteousness gets my ass up in the morning/ and next the heart declines to find the whirling of a shore/ heavy as the savage cave alive and writhing in the silence of the shattered, fast-bound curse/ to touch the barbs and wire/ my scratching twilight with its furious stare murmuring i was loved once by a sullen and fleshless wind/ and sailors fallen faster/ and over this glimmering river broke all the desolate nudes in stark and bewinged detail/ to touch/ being touched/ carving out the heart/ to touch/ don’t tell me i cannot do what i do because i am doing it/ i do not need your permission or anyone’s permission/ i am not talking about doing it/ i am doing it/ no, no/ yes, yes/ yes/ my question to you is: how do i imbue them with a humanity after they have been through what they have been through/ mash mashed/ yes, yes/ no, no/ yes/ just being alive/ is not enough/ you have to walk that walk/ oh, humanity/ you have to give them what they have anyway/

because it belongs to them/

denial is the tongue from hell/ denial is the indelible smell of char/ denial is the darker, sooner death draped around your neck by the sneering status quo/ denial is the anchor of your hate/ denial is your whore to paradise the glowing and the knowing pink things three squares flush on flush/ denial is the retch infinitely attended to by the curling of a peasant with a bullet in his brain/ denial is the message giving birth to acidic spill that soaks all mourning in retreat/ denial is the soak of drought upon which a pirouette like god salts a suicide/ denial is the drag of knowledge down the tearing street so necessary for a pathos nourished by spit alone/ denial’s breath is vile/ and where have you ever shown me beyond your flesh’s stretch marks that what you think matters/ why does what you think matter/ why does what you deny matter/ you knocking on doors declaring that your hollow matters/ how do you matter/ why do you matter/ you have never explained this/ you have never articulated in an open mike at the reading why your venom should be my blood/ why/ why/ why is your droning buzz in monotone backlit by significance/ you, hater/ how is it that your desire for revenge should be mine as well/ your hissing only leaves a shrinking shell for your epic migraine and the trotting off/ denial is the shield you ache with to ward off blood/ denial is the shame of fate/ denial is the rubble of a set of lungs stirring in a winter’s rearrangement of reality/ denial is the kingdom of the shadows governed by the jackals of  your shock/ and where is it written by your hands of stones that we all should burn with it/ on your hands and knees/ why is it that you matter/ how is it that i am compelled to choke on your petrification/ some mean proof imbued with panic’s suffering/ how is it that i should run with you and facing away/ gesturing to the space you occupy that covers your disturbance/ denial is the end of nothingness and a freedom from the past and the wounded dream of a memory whose spin is a shifting of the passages wave-to-wave teething on nothing more than bones and the slow spread/

of reason’s ashes/   

they are not your children/ your children are not your children/ i didn’t make it up/ nothing is original/ not you/ not me/ we are frozen as copies of ourselves/ stand at attention/ do not look around or you will be shot/ or are you are the indifference/ or are you are the people in the town who do not know who know/ who know/ who know/ no, no/ oh, yes, oh yes/ you know/ you are the guards/ you are the gates/ you are the wire and the barb/ you are the ovens and the smoke of faggots/ razzle dazzle, baby/ they are doing it without you/ for themselves/ you cannot abide the idea of it/ the trains in the background are only trains/ they can cum for anyone/ not us we paid our mortgage we sent our kids to college we bought a car we did all the right things/ we did all the right things/ but they are cuming for you, too/ no, no/ you can deny that they exist but what you see, and what you do not see, and what you deny, and what you do not deny is irrelevant/ it is not germane to anyone that you see them/ your indifference is meaningless because they will demand to live their lives without either your approval or acceptance/ it’s not about you/ it’s about them/ the reality of now is juxtaposed against what went down back then because it has to be/ flashing and dancing to a touching of the dreams/ where is this humanity i speak of to be found/ you either hear the music of it or you don’t/ there is no middle ground/ of course, i’m a liar your body’s nice, too/ in the background are the faces of the walking dead/ oh, denial/ the ovens of your hateful tongues mean you you you/ i would wear a pink triangle but i don’t know how to sew/ excuses, excuses/ the art of it escapes me/ no, no/

yes, yes/ yes/

Cinematheque@Europe.com

tim@showmeyourlife.org

http://showmeyourlife.org

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Sexually Violated Males Infected with HIV/AIDS Debut Art Show in New York City

"Tristan's Moon" opens to the public, showcasing real stories expressed by young males ensnared in the international commercial sex industries and living with the devastating consequences of HIV/AIDS

NEW YORK, Jan. 10, 2012 -- Throughout the United States, one in every six males under the age of 16 is a victim of sexual abuse. More frightening, many are immersed in sex trafficking and at extremely high risk for contracting and dying from HIV/AIDS or related illnesses, substance abuse and suicide. From the beginning of abuse through death, these young people typically suffer in silence with no hope of appropriate or consistent medical care, justice or safety. The sale of children, child prostitution, child pornography, sex trafficking, HIV/AIDS and ongoing human rights violations are the motivation behind a disturbing yet powerful 2012 art show at Real Stories Gallery Foundation in Tribeca, New York.

The "Tristan's Moon" art installation is the collaborative effort of young artists and their mentors. Thanks to Tim Barrus and Les Garcons de Cinematheque Films, founder and residents of an international safe-house and innovative arts program, these artists have been given a voice through artistic expression. Real Stories initiatives are showcased at http://www.real-stories-gallery.org with a foreword by Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu. Tristan's Moon is also the first human rights brick-and-mortar gallery of its kind, revealing personal stories through video, poetry, music, tattooing, photo collages and fine art prints.

"Tristan’s Moon spotlights a tragedy experienced by thousands of young males worldwide, including the United States," says Dr. Rachel Chapple, Real Stories founder, anthropologist and mother of four children (three boys). "One startling story is the vast majority of abusers are married men with children. This and other realities make it a difficult story to share and to witness. But we must, if we are to end the trauma happening on our watch. Tristan’s Moon reveals the creativity and guts of young males forced to survive in an abusive adult environment, and their extraordinary empathy and compassion. We have much to learn from these remarkable young survivors. Tristan's Moon will be a life-changing experience for anyone who witnesses it."

Tristan’s Moon is a conversation raised by Real Stories in collaboration with Cinematheque Films and Art for Humanity, which have gifted their international fine art and poetry human rights portfolios. Other notable contributors include composer Philip Glass and Dunvagen Music Publishers (Satyagraha: “confrontation and rescue”); tattoo artist Anthony "Civ" Civorelli, lead singer for the punk band Gorilla Biscuits; and Sumana Witherspoon-Ghosh, assistant to Vanity Fair's art director.

Tristan's Moon is located at 36 Laight Street, Tribeca, NY 10013. Please ring the bell to enter (Monday through Friday). For private viewings, ask Rachel at realstoriesgallery@gmail.com; 646-331-0117.

Real Stories Gallery Foundation, a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization, facilitates contemporary storytelling and collective witness through the arts for the purpose of raising awareness and evoking social change. Through storytelling, Real Stories works to prevent human rights violations related to HIV/AIDS worldwide.

# # #

In January 2012, for the first time since 1929, the US federal law on rape was updated by the Department of Justice. The new reading of the law now includes boys and men.

 

I was raped by a pediatrician in the fourth grade. While it was happening, I did not understand what he was doing (or why). But he was an authority figure and you had to respect authority figures unconditionally because if you didn’t, your father would beat the shit out of you. My parents were big into beating kids and authority.

I knew it hurt.

Where were my parents. My dad was nowhere to be found. My mother was waiting patiently in the dark (it was after office hours) in the waiting room in her old cloth coat. I do not know why I remember that coat so well, but I do. I think I see that old cloth coat (in twenty years I never saw her wear another coat) as a symbold of our poverty.

When Wikipedia explains to you all about what an evil man I am, they never refer to rape as an instrument of terror and parenting.

I go to a health clinic in Asheville. I will not undress or wear patient gowns. They characterize me (it is a federally defined category) as a survivor of sexual violence.

I allow them to take my vital signs but that is it. They begrudgingly accept this. They almost kicked me out at first; refusing to see me as a patient.

We got beyond all of that.

Almost.

“Isn’t it about time you started dealing with this,” my doctor says.

What he doesn’t understand is that I deal with it every day. And in the same nightmare night after night.

Newspapers have described me as a very angry man and defiant. So.

To this day, I have a huge problem with the fact that my parents failed to protect me.

I do not trust most authority.

Especially if it comes wrapped in a white coat.

I pushed the memory of it away for years. But now I remember. I remember the look on his face and he was mean. I think he hated children.

It wasn’t sex. It was violence.

I do not know how my mother never questioned the whole after office hours thing. His office was dark. Only a few lights were on. I remember thinking: What are you DOING to me. I had never heard of the word rape. I had no idea what it was.

I know now what rape is.

I keep wondering if they sold me.

Yesterday, the Department of Justice redefined the legal definition of rape to include men and boys.

Most of the people I know were surprised the law has never included men or boys.

The law also stated that in the case of females who were claiming rape, the female had to prove she had resisted.

The old law was draconian.

The new definition of the federal statute was only realized after years and years of pressure by the survivors of rape like me.

Doctors and priests who rape children will go DOWN.

The kids at Cinematheque are constantly hounded by men. One is a computer guru from Teas (who claims to know me which is a lie) who gets email addresses and harasses and stalks us on the Internet). There is another one who lives in Cyprus and goes by the name of VizJim. I call both of them them haters. They are sexually attracted to young boys. Most of the boys in Cinematheque are also the survivors of sexual trauma. When we are stalked and harassed, we fight back. We are constantly being challenged to come out in public ways. But why should we volunteer to trot ourselves out there — to be abused — and to relive it (or repeat the experience) again and again. To do that would be a recipe for suicide.

The new definition of the federal law regarding rape — now to include the male of the species — is going to change a lot of lives.

The fight with the bureaucracy to include men and boys was worth the grief, the work, the anguish, the rage.

Personally, I was shocked the law got reviewed at all. Let alone changed. Rape is bad enough. But when people who rape children are protected by the institutions they are associated with (our stalker is only somewhat protected by proxy servers but we do have his location) or work for, the walls that protect the castle must be challenged. It is not enough to tell me to simply “deal with it.”

I am dealing with it. I was instrumental in changing the way the law is interpreted. For a woman to have to prove she resisted being raped is antediluvian. Many women are targeted because they can’t fight back.

The new interpretation of the law now reads to include such ideas as the use of alcohol and other drugs. Meaning: just because you might be too drunk or wiped out to know you were raped, you are still being raped, and it’s still against the law. The federal statue against rape had not been reviewed since 1929. The year my mother was born.

The doctor who raped me is dead.

I do sometimes wonder how many other children he got his animal hands on.

I didn’t know what rape was back then as a kid growing up in Lansing, Michigan. Another bitter little town where they claim (on the rooftops) they love their children.

It’s crap. The sexual abuse of children in the school system there was rampant. I do not know how I survived attending West Junior High School. I had to stand naked at attention while a teacher inspected me. Time and time again.

I have always written about that place as if it were a nightmare populated by monsters because to me it was.

When people say — WE LOVE OUR CHILDREN — I know rhetoric when I hear it. You only love your children when they shut the fuck up.

The law needed to be changed. It was changed. Some of us are no longer willing to sit patiently waiting in the dark in our old cloth coats. — tim barrus

Anthony "Civ" Civorelli (tattoo artist/ lead singer for Civ and Gorilla Biscuits) painting hyenas on the wall of Tristan's Moon. It will merge with the video art piece created by Tim Barrus & Cinematheque called "everything turns away/ all old men are dangerous."

Boys With Candles Bearing Witness

Oil on Canvas: Tim Barrus, 2012

Cinematheque@Europe.com

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Sexually Violated Males Infected with HIV/AIDS Debut Art Show in New York City

"Tristan's Moon" opens to the public, showcasing real stories expressed by young males ensnared in the international commercial sex industries and living with the devastating consequences of HIV/AIDS

NEW YORK, Jan. xx, 2012 -- Throughout the United States, one in every six males under the age of 16 is a victim of sexual abuse. More frightening, many are immersed in sex trafficking and at extremely high risk for contracting and dying from HIV/AIDS or related illnesses, substance abuse and suicide. From the beginning of abuse through death, these young people typically suffer in silence with no hope of appropriate or consistent medical care, justice or safety. The sale of children, child prostitution, child pornography, sex trafficking, HIV/AIDS and ongoing human rights violations are the motivation behind a disturbing yet powerful 2012 art show at Real Stories Gallery Foundation in Tribeca, New York.

The "Tristan's Moon" art installation is the collaborative effort of young artists and their mentors. Thanks to Tim Barrus and Les Garcons de Cinematheque Films, founder and residents of an international safe-house and innovative arts program, these artists have been given a voice through artistic expression. Real Stories initiatives are showcased at http://www.real-stories-gallery.org with a foreword by Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu. Tristan's Moon is also the first human rights brick-and-mortar gallery of its kind, revealing personal stories through video, poetry, music, tattooing, photo collages and fine art prints.

"Tristan’s Moon spotlights a tragedy experienced by thousands of young males worldwide, including the United States," says Dr. Rachel Chapple, Real Stories founder, anthropologist and mother of four children (three boys). "One startling story is the vast majority of abusers are married men with children. This and other realities make it a difficult story to share and to witness. But we must, if we are to end the trauma happening on our watch. Tristan’s Moon reveals the creativity and guts of young males forced to survive in an abusive adult environment, and their extraordinary empathy and compassion. We have much to learn from these remarkable young survivors. Tristan's Moon will be a life-changing experience for anyone who witnesses it."

Tristan’s Moon is a conversation raised by Real Stories in collaboration with Cinematheque Films and Art for Humanity, which have gifted their international fine art and poetry human rights portfolios. Other notable contributors include composer Philip Glass and Dunvagen Music Publishers (Satyagraha: “confrontation and rescue”); tattoo artist Anthony "Civ" Civorelli, lead singer for the punk band Gorilla Biscuits; and Sumana Witherspoon-Ghosh, assistant to Vanity Fair's art director.

Tristan's Moon is located at 36 Laight Street, Tribeca, NY 10013. Please ring the bell to enter (Monday through Friday). For private viewings, ask Rachel at realstoriesgallery@gmail.com; 646-331-0117.

Real Stories Gallery Foundation, a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization, facilitates contemporary storytelling and collective witness through the arts for the purpose of raising awareness and evoking social change. Through storytelling, Real Stories works to prevent human rights violations related to HIV/AIDS worldwide.

# # #

Tim Barrus, Founder/Director of Cinémathèque Films:

It is rare that a press release would move me. Maybe it's because I am in the middle of a kid disclosing. It is an ONGOING gig. It never ends here. Disclosing is so explosive. It rips them apart. I will never understand it. It is one thing to treat the child. I can do that. IT IS ANOTHER THING TO TREAT THE SOCIETY THE KID LIVES IN THAT BREAKS HIM. It is not ENOUGH to treat the kid. If we can't at the same time treat the culture that would destroy children, what are we doing being here. The press release puts knots in my guts and that doesn't happen much anymore. I think it's effective. My only internalized response is to make art that maybe in some small way speaks to a kid like the one in this picture. The umbrella over your head is fragile. It cannot always protect you. But for you to start being able to protect yourself, you must remove the leaves from your eyes so that you can see, and we can see who you are behind all the hiding places. -- t