The Royal Edward

November 10 & 17


Doolin Gallery

Owens Art Center

6101 Bishop Blvd

Dallas, Tx 75205

Pop up exhibition featuring multi channel video, installation, and performance works by first year MFA candidate, Xxavier Edward Performance begins at 7:45PM, refreshments provided. Please click link for tickets or to make donations.

Video installation for this work includes a three channel video loop of footage from the NASA AMES Research Facility in Mountainview, California and SMU Taos Campus. The video installation is set to a musical playlist curated by the artist. At 7:45 PM, the installation transitions into a still projection from Joshua Tree National Park where the artist has arranged a blood ritual for protection in movements. The artist will perform and endurance reading of the 83 page poem, The Royal Edward. The poem is a contemporary epic about imprisonment, passion, spirituality, death, politics, history, and American Cultures treatment of blackness.

This work is the first showing of the multidisciplinary work of Xxavier Edward Carter in Dallas, Texas. The installation deals with elemental magic, the written word, life cycles, and nature. The elements of fire, water, and earth are visualized by an array of reclaimed trees, ritual burning footage, and footage from an in ground pool in decay at a superfund site. The issue of humans in created environments is a central theme to the work and one that is navigated in the installation of The Royal Edward.

Xxavier Edward Carter is an artist from Dallas, Texas. Xxavier studied art practice at Stanford University with a focus on printmaking and new media and is currently in the first year of an MFA at SMU’s Meadows School of the Arts. Xxavier as exhibited works in South Korea, Japan, Portugal, England, Morocco, and the United States. From 2016 to 2017, Xxavier was a fellow at The Yerba Buena Center for the arts in San Francisco. Xxavier was the 2011 recipient of the Kimbrough-Degoyer Grant from the Dallas Museum of Art. Xxavier Edward Carter is Represented by Goldfish Dreams//G-D|100 PERCENT FOR SURE.

For more information please contact Mr.Carter through his website, here.


I moved back to Dallas for graduate school, specifically to be a part of a changing landscape in the arts. I haven’t always been able to point to a particular influence in my artwork but I always see my work as a kind of place setting, in making works I sought to open doors and invite others into the story and as I have grown the table has expanded.

It happens often that people look at my resume and comment on the amount of travel I’ve done. I’ve been lucky enough to have been able to travel internationally, I also have a mother that was active in showing me a culture you couldn’t get without chasing it, something that has been impressed on me was just how far reaching blackness was and what it means to follow your goals.

What does it mean to want to connect people through creativity? What are the bonds that bring communities like but not the same into the center of a city trying to expand into an global market but still bound by the institutional underpinnings of a kind of cultural conservatism that keeps vision closed off to its inhabitants that live outside of the lines of poverty?

Dallas is a city of haves and have nots, a metropolitan area that boasts some of the best public education in the country but also has a history of redistricting that has driven out African Americans from its bound year after year. Urban renewal programs, redevelopment, whatever you want to call it is a kill switch for anyone below a living wage. Increasingly the wealth gap in cities has been allowed to grow out of control. The crisis of homelessness is being fueled by corporate influence driving people from their homes with promises of better employment coming in their wakes. These promises are never fufilled as prices rise and communities are gutted to make way for the progress of condominiums well above what is sustainable.

In the midst of this, Public Works Dallas has worked to renetwork the communities surrounding Downtown Dallas and create pathways for a richer public through community theater. In a recent talk at The Owens Art Center, the pilot year of Public Works Dallas was illuminated by speaker Shirley Brice Heath followed by a panel discussion between Ignite/Art Dallas director, Clyde Valentin, Dallas Theater Center Artistic Director, Kevin Moriarty, and Martha Rodriguez, Program Manager at Bachman Lake Together, one of the five community partners of Public Works Dallas.

The clarity of Public Works Dallas is public health in the realizations of the program. Participants in the program speak of it as being a life changing experience across the board. The formula is simple. Increasing the physical activity of the community, creating an environment for learning, and enabling members of the production to take responsibility for the success of the production, Public Works is setting out on a revolutionary path that is instilling a confidence in its members to build a better future for the city as a whole.

Runtime: 29:57


Funeral Pyre - Phantogram
Whoodeeni - De La Soul Featuring 2 Chainz
I Put A Spell On You - Screamin' Jay Hawkins
American Daydream - Electric Guest
Speedballin - Outkast
Lost - Danny Brown
You're Dead - Norma Tanega

I’m not burned out. Maybe that is the most unfortunate part of this. I would feel better if I was completely drained. I know what that feeling is like. I also know what this feels like too. I’m bent over. I’ve spent the month on the road, on my couch, in my studio, and now I’m in my bed. No interviews this month, I’m just going to talk some things out. It’s not going to make me feel any better but, I’ve gotten into a routine. Obviously, that is a part of this feeling.
I still haven’t found a real job, meaning I spend 4 to 6 hours a day looking or applying or lamenting that I don’t have the means to make ends meet. Every day I have to wonder what the fuck am I doing this for. Every day I tell myself there is a nice warm center I am circling around and not some sink hole devouring all that I contribute to the world. Wouldn’t it be easier just accepting that at the end of this semester I won’t have the $1500 or so dollars I need to pay for my mandatory health insurance, and just fuck off now and maybe get a fast food job.
I don’t believe in a light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve had severe writers block for the last few weeks and outside of making artwork, writing is my other solace. Luckily I have force behind me pushing me to do that thing, or else. This is painful but necessary. I’m even looking forward to it. If anything is to be said about this time I’ve spent in my MFA I’ve worn my face into the minds of whoever I’ve worked with. I don’t know if that’s a good thing but the words will come next and in that hopefully a reprieve. So many days I think I should be doing something else, I guess now is my chance.
I am going to say this. This is the first time I haven’t been hungry in months. I even almost feel full. My stomach is rumbling but I don’t need to eat like I used to in previous days. My refrigerator isn’t full but it looks like I live here. It doesn’t look like I’m just passing through. I have perishables that are looking to turn, but right now they still have the color they should have. I’ll say that I feel like the soup of all the readings I’ve done and I taste just as rich as all the paper I have filling my studio walls and desk. Soon enough I’ll be painting the paper on my floor with the little ink I have left.
What will the story be when I’m found. There is a story in the news about Italian runners all going the wrong way and the winner being someone no one ever expected in the race. I am running out of time. Where am I running. I got some advice that I should work on one thing. I thought that was what I was doing this whole time. Would I be thinking this if I was anywhere near my stride. How sure can I be? Now that I’m breathing hard, I’m sure I should find myself. Surely I’m going somewhere. I’ve come so far, surely that will be said.
I can hear the light rail from my apartment even with all the windows closed and the door shut. I don’t know if I’m hallucinating this. Maybe it’s real and that after a while the anxiety of waking up every morning at 6 am to make the walk past the fire station and the meat market and the car wash and the empty buildings. I saw a stray cat the other morning sitting in the bank parking lot. I made a few noises to get its attention. It seemed to be sleeping but maybe I was imagining things. It wouldn’t be the first time and I’m guessing it won’t be the last.
These are the last days of the month. I’ve grown my beard back. I feel like myself. I haven’t gotten lost in my mirror. How could I forget this face. And even as much as I’m not attached to looking at myself, every morning, I know who I am. I’m more than halfway to nothing, and if that ain’t something. Here’s to a sweet November like the one in the songs where I am gone. Say what you will, won’t you anyway? This has been a recording.

I was invited to the Windspear Opera’s season opening with cast party and intermission reception access. It was my first time at the opera and I’ve been spoiled by the experience with floor seats in the middle of the hall, orchestra seats, close enough to throw something on stage if I wanted to, free cocktails and champagne. I’m writing a thank you letter, obviously I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Being the first night of the season, the audience was treated to the star spangled banner. It was a surreal start to the night, seeing the entire audience standing, dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns. I mentioned to my host respectability politics through the lens of the opera. The story of Samson and Delilah in the old testament book of judges is heavy on the rights of man and vengeance. Disrespect is blood libel, your god gives and takes strength, the power of the word is the power of action, all cultures operate on the code of acceptance lest ye be expelled from the light. We speak of the strength of Samson, we don’t speak of the strength of Delilah, also given to her by her God and reinforced by love. Love is the weapon of the philistines, love is the power of choice, but in its fluidity, love is the destroyer of both man and empire.

Cycles repeat themselves throughout the action and songs of Samson and Delilah. The opening sequence presents the Hebrews under Samson’s care in a huddle moving in lamentation, to gyre surrounded by the oppressors, to vortex devouring those that hold them captive. The scene was enacted beautifully, and it is one that repeats itself to different ends. Again, cycles repeat themselves. Like the love affair of Samson and Delilah, the voices of Olga Borodina and Clifton Forbis swirls with the emotion of what is right for the self, the tribe, and what will placate the internal burnings that have bound them to their fates. It is crushing. Who has not been bound by regret, bound by the past? Visualizing that in production, Samson and Delilah succeeds in painting a picture of extreme bondage by the power of love. While there is no escape for the characters of the play, there is a place for us outside of the rubble with the present on the road to lives boundless.

 I think of Judith slaying Holofernes when I think of Samson and Delilah as a counter offer to the fall of the judge, Samson. I think of Judith winning the trust of the enemy and alone with her attendant cutting the head off of the enemy in one fail swoop. It is the weight of the world resting on the shoulders of one and while there is no opera chronicling Judith, art history has told the tale. For every season there is a second to recollect. These are bold times and with as much as there is to be said about what fate may ordain, the boldness of love and strength must not be forgotten. Respect and stay tuned.

This is going to come off as a wandering and probably long winded write up that only touches briefly in the topic at hand, cyborgs. Criticize me in the comments.

I’m going to define cyborgs as once human that has taken on the inorganic as a part of their body, as an extension of their body, moving their body into a definition that is no longer human nor completely transcendent, dead. The undead may have been post human but were not cyborgs, as i recognize their at once dead state, having taken on the organic, disease, blood, scratches from cursed animals, as a part of their reconstitution, their bodies while transcendent do not posess and are not wanting of the inorganic. In fact, the ghoul, as i will be using to refer to the undead, has a preternatural longing for the organic, recognized in their devouring of flesh, raising ghoul armies, it is a desire to return and carry on the movemnets of humanity, minus the shitting.

The cyborg seeks the afterlife. However conscious the lust of a new ascension through the immorality of things is one that seeks to divorce what is soul from the experience. We make our gods in our image but better, the unblinking eye advanced to automatic and all seeing is no longer an eye, the eye has become fixed, more monument to vision than the eye. The cyborg looks to become part of the landscape in the same way, elemental, the light as apparatus and purpose defined in body. Mystery has been released and mastery has become the goal, knowing is no longer loving but rising above through a narrow understanding. In the garden there was a choice many fold and to consume became the path of understanding. To eat the light, the cyborg has become satiated with the immaterial, but only by the immaterial. 

On the battlefield the landscape is endless. It is the tactile nature of war, the replication of a feeling, where victory is all other things but the action because if the action were to end so would the constructed world. The cyborg does not assume this, the knowing is programed in its being and perpetuated in its reinforcing of the constructed world, a world of totality in its neverending, all things contained and never more to come.


I returned from a week of intensive performance art exercises feeling much more. My mental health has been of a slide for a few weeks prior to my birthday, as usual. I work really hard not to place my feelings on other people, not projecting anger, or for that matter sadness anywhere but into the ground it seems. My performance practice is based largely around expressing and expelling these feelings. Let’s say when it is successful I feel empty and wanting to be filled, maybe eating voraciously for several days or the opposite and wearing myself thin over nights of manic conception, digging deeper than is appreciated into the graves of what I have settled. I have enough new material to keep me occupied, this isn’t an escape as much as it is a rehearsal, it being embodying this kind of possession as vessel for creative ends.

I still need a job. I’m halfway through the month and I have almost nothing to my name as far as rent money goes. Maybe it is as much surrendering to my beliefs. I spent a lot of today thinking about a tweet of how I should have learned Spanish. There is preference for spanish speaker at the local museums. No preference placed on blackness. I can’t help but think about the capitalist cycle of consumption of people, there being no value on the black experience beyond body as tool. I bet I would be a shoe in as a security guard at any of the institutions that I have applied to but anything involving programming my resume is under qualified no matter the circumstance, its a vision thing. There isn’t a value placed on bringing black bodies to museums even if black artists are on the rise.

I have given up on another libra. Things that never sit well with me is the conversation around affirmative action in relation to my education. Apparently I am the product of exemplars and not myself to some people, that my success, and failures in my opinion, have come as a model pressed by whiteness. How fucking dumb. I will leave it at that. I’m not interested in having the conversation anything other than my work has put me where I am. I am not interested in having the conversation that I was put on to fill a quota. I am not interested in schooling anyone of any color about misconceptions lumped on my back by bullshit click baiting fascist, troll, or any other normative pos cultural maven.

Midterms reviews are this Friday and I am on fire. I am a field on fire. I am burning like California and Portugal. I am lit up like a million candles in a monastery. I am burning down the house.

Runtime: 33:17


Repetition – Tearist

I Told You I’d Be With The Guys -Cherry Glazer

Mean Demeanor – Run The Jewels

Get Some featuring Kamille – Ghosted

Silkk Da Shocka featuring Syd – Isiah Rashad

Congratulations featuring Quavo – Post Malone

Hey Mujhe Dil De Nahi Toh – Shashi Kapoor

September’s episode of Radio100Percent is about work. Monday October 2nd was my birthday. I’ve been school for 45 days. Last month I averaged 10848 steps per day. I recorded a few audio clips on what my work was about while making it, I still haven’t listened to them. They’re sitting on my phone. I haven’t had the time to transfer them to my computer.

I don’t consider myself busy, I have a schedule. September, I’m going to talk through, then I’m going to play some songs for the transition into my birthday month, October.

I’ve got four jobs on SMU campus, and may be adding more. I’ve been trying to contain myself to serving all my monetary needs between SMU and independent work. I’m on a fixed income from the MFA program, 150 dollars every two weeks. Ideally that covers my health insurance. For that I am a TA and a Gallery Attendant for the Pollock Gallery. I am also the sports editor of the Rotunda Yearbook. I’m building my resume with this one. I also have a monthly position, non paid with the Graduate Student Council.

I’ve been doing more reviewing. It’s a carry over of my readings. I have a meeting with some potential references for my application to the Obama Foundation Fellowship. In that meeting I’m going to discuss a paid blogging position mentioned to me as a potential source of income. For two weekends I have been scheduled to work in San Francisco. I’ve received the bulk of my income from these trips. October is going to be a busy month with my window for travel very low. I’ve been doing sex work for about 2 years now. It really does pay the bills. If I could do more I would book myself out every weekend. When I can I like to perform. September also had two cancelations. Every few days during the programming cycle for a private collection in Dallas I guard art.

In the studio I am working on a large installation project around a narrative and character I’ve created for a poem, The Royal Edward. The name is obvious. I’ve recovered tree sections, a deep freezer, and incorporated a collection of found and altered objects for these works. I’ve also acquired paper and ink to work on a new drawing series. I’m working on my largest drawing to date right now. The installation is a performance, a tomb/time machine, multiple relics, projections, a book, photographs, offerings, and documentation. A quote I’ve recorded is that I am trying to possess myself. The work is exploring alter ego and social engineering, A part of the work is institutional critique. I’ve thought of this project as a two year project and as of now I think I will have more free time than I considered. Filling that space is an unknown. That uncertainty has a lot of potential.

This music block I’m starting out with a track from a band I head at a dinner in The Cedars, It’s Repetition by Tearist, then I’ve got Cherry Glazer with I Told You I’d Be With The Guys, Mean Demeanor by Run The Jewels, Get Some by Ghosted featuring Kamille, then Silkk Da Shocka featuring Syd by Isiah Rashad, Congratulations featuring Quavo by Post Malone, and Hey Mujhe Dil De Nahi Toh by Shashi Kapoor. 100 Percent For Sure.

I am exploring conflict. My research has centered around medieval art work and sex. Capitalism plays a big role. Most recently I have been considering the relationship between feminity as expressed in monastic culture and womanhood, all this centering on text and imaging. In the unsaid is the relationship between masculinity and authority, and looking toward the celibacy of homosocial spaces in coisters. In creating this character I’ve been looking at the materiality of western Europe and the movement of religion specifically in its artifact, cults and cultural monuments, text, image, and the economies around these artifacts.

Taking these concepts into contemporary art objects, I am exploring fetishization, Freud, film theory. I’m interested in the intersections between performance and social possibility, fantasy and economy, story and architecture. I’m confronting challenges of scale, tradition, immediacy, detail. In maintaining a budget my first risk is balancing my time and energy. The size I work at doesn’t slow down my speed. I take the most time of creating around new media technology and materials that have multiple steps in their realization. My process around sculpture is very labor intensive, objects, I find for me, coalesce after I can place the object. The best example of this is the central relic I am making. There is a ceramic component that I am only now beginning to realize in form. I’m making the relic to also function in my kitchen as a table and freezer combo. In transforming the already functioning freezer, I am putting a tile covering and wood embellishment on a frame enclosing the freezer. In its presentation I’ve included a number of salvaged wood pieces. I found that many of the wood pieces were infested with carpenter ants. In making the wood usable in the work I’ve created a process I’ve documented as the creation of a pigment through an alchemy of harvesting and reducing to ash the carpenter ants and bits of organic material. These side projects evolve out of organically and have carry over in the overall building of the narrative structure surrounding the relics I am creating for the work, sometimes resulting in new materials like this example. All this increases the sustainability of my practice.

October I’ll be back with more interview and music. Any questions, comments, conversations, reach out to my the contact page. This is a recording.


It’s like how they say you always hurt the ones you love. That is the hinge point of neoliberalism, the place where everything folds in on itself and becomes the perfect package to deliver statements like we couldn’t save everyone. I am getting ahead of myself, but the exposition is more for me, maybe it will be equally for you, depending on how you want to look at it, if you are like me, anyways.

I saw In The Blood staged at The Meadows School of the Arts, a play by Suzan-Lori Parks, directed by Rhonda Blair. The play takes The Scarlet Letter to a modern end, centering on a Hester Pryn, 5 children into her life, fallen on hard times. The play takes race and the economics of the industrial revolution to task, it could be any time in the last hundred years in America, there is no escaping the crisis of living under the hand of the state, a hand blocking out the sun, a hand beating anyone too slow to conform to the machine to death. Suzan-Lori Parks uses language in a lyrical way that blends speech with song and prayer and action. Many of the beautiful moments of In The Blood come from the characters overstanding of the unsaid reality they are all trapped in. The tension of moments of reveal and masking of intentions folding into the backdrop of a city of a million stories. And yet in the midst of so many stories the cruel beauty of In The Blood is that there is no mistaking the modern Hester Pryn as anyone else, bound by the hands of time like fates noose, reflecting reality in the body of a woman that loved. It is a horror that is radical in its feeling that Parks delivers to the stage, a life caught in the rush of emotion like the gears of a grinding wheel.

I left a nearly empty notebook on my outgoing flight to San Francisco. I slept most of the afternoon and evening. My flight is in a few hours. I feel refreshed. Lots of new ideas for sculptures.

Did you know I have three jobs on campus, technically four? I get paid for three of them and technically only one of them. I still have a part time job in San Francisco. I can make a months rent in an hour. My travel is included.

I’m going to try and not lose you. I haven’t written a poem in months, but that changed this morning.

Monday I will be 31 years old.

I’ve got a studio visit tomorrow with the artist Robyn O’Neil. In the last week I’ve abandoned and doubled down on what I think is really at the heart of my practice. Most of what I would like to talk about is better for an artist talk instead of my artist statement but I’m making it better. I’m on my third statement in the last week.

I’m going fishing this weekend and gathering materials for an installation. I set out a goal to have a scale model built of this structure I’m working on. I think I’ll have three versions together if I really put my mind to it. The question is which one will I like the most. I’ve also got two mixed media pieces to put together..

I’ve been doing a lot of reviews and I’ll put out another one by the end of the week.

I’m going to reach out to the SMU football office about a social practice piece I want to do. It may not really be social practice and may be more education/activism/outreach. The lines are all blurred, anyone with a television could see that.


The Pollock Gallery is not featuring Acts of Aggression, an exhibition about community, featuring the work of 11 contemporary Guatemalan Artists, curated by Laura A. L. Wellen. The works tackle the impinging boarders and identities in a contemporary landscape reconciling with its past. The works exhibit a visual component of play in forms, moving between building block sculptures and assemblages of leisure,  video works featuring a kind of hide and seek between frontiers of the body and space, gestural representations of two dimensional image making, and experiential soundscape. Participating artists include Hellen Ascoli, Esvin Alarcón Lam, Edgar Calel, Manuel Chavajay Moralez, Margarita Figueroa, Jorge de León, Reyes Josué Morales, Naufus Ramírez-Figueroa, Gabriel Rodríguez Pellecer, Mario Santoizo, and Inés Verdugo