Exposition

Each new  arrival  walks  into  an incomplete  fiction.
The meaning  of the work  is fragmentary.  The story
has  begun  with  a  driving  question:  “What   is  the
function of  diagnosis?”  or  “What can  be made out
of loneliness?” Lauren  is very  elaborate  and writes,
“What is the meaning  of an  accumulation of  coffee
pots?”  When   asked  to   identify  a  yoke,  she  says,
“Thing   you    put   around   an   ox—noose.”  Lauren
withdraws,  stops  doing her  homework,  and  hangs
shards of scenery:  jigsaw  puzzles,  broken  cameras,
decrees.  All   the  characters  are  happenstance  and
helium.  All the dialogue is conditional. When asked
to      identify    a     tourniquet,     she     answers,    “a
blood-pressure   thingie,”    testifying  to  a  life   now
reduced on the Suicide Potential Scale.  Lauren  also
endorses the phrase,  “I wish I could  be as  happy as
others seem to be.” She sits inside a viewfinder while
the  horizon  scans her  brain for  fires.  The sky  sags
into  a   blue  body  cast.   What  is  the  meaning of  a
mountain of masks?

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“When I was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) in March of 2020 at age thirty-six, I received a new narrative through which to understand my life and my loneliness. I also began interrogating diagnosis as narrative, while locked within the loneliness of the COVID-19 pandemic. ‘Exposition’ includes material from a psychological evaluation assessing my ‘level of functioning’ the summer I turned fifteen, as well as language from Ted Castle’s article on the artist Arman, “Accumulation by Arman,” from the December 1983 issue of Art in America. ‘What is the meaning of an accumulation of coffee pots?’ is from Castle’s article, which also quotes an interview wherein Arman states, ‘The meaning of my work is fragmentary.’ The ‘mountain of masks’ references both the COVID-19 pandemic and the experience of masking autistic traits.”
—Lauren Russell