: : The Bed We Lie In // J MacPherson + L Yutuc

: : Living Spaces



I love it when
I hear a noise  
from the other side of the wall  
in my apartment. 
I imagine it’s you, 
you’ve come home  
again. It helps me  
picture our lives
playing out simultaneously; 
the distance collapsing  
like a telescope, becoming
more manageable. You get up–  
I can hear you
washing your face, cooking
breakfast, listening
to the radio. When
the walls are silent
you’re just at work, 
you’re just out
running errands. 

// J MacPherson



: : The Bed We Lie In

Creator's Note : : 

Out of impulse, I voluntarily entered a state of false homelessness with the following parameters: I could not return home for any reason and I cannot stay in the same place twice. In a span of two weeks, I was graced by the hospitality of friends and strangers, connected with people at the most profound level, and reflected deeply about my own self. I was reminded about the importance of coming home and what that means to the person you love. Thus, The Bed We Lie In focuses on my former partner's perspective as he recounts his experiences and thoughts during my time away.

// L Yutuc


FOLIO : : Nada // G Kim

Curator's Note:

In the following narrative, an individual identifies using both "he/him/his" singular and "they/their/themselves" plural pronouns. Use of multiple types of pronouns may not be the most obvious at first read, and gets a little more complex given the relationship with the storyteller. I encourage you to take your time and sit with this unique relationship to Self and Other. 


: : Nada

: : "nothing," 1933, English slang, introduced by Hemingway, from Spanish nada "nothing," from Latin (res) nata "small, insignificant thing," literally "(thing) born," from natus, past participle of nasci "to be born" (Old Latin gnasci), from PIE root *gene- "give birth, beget."





It was only a little while ago that I realized I am in love with them.

We did an experiment. I stood behind a one-way mirror while they looked into themselves. They projected their eager desires, immersed in adorning themselves. Perhaps, I envied them, a little. Per our agreement, I observed and documented them, hiding behind the mirror. Series of images started to pile up in my mind, and only one thing became clear:  my gaze of censorship was meaningless scissoring, which merely limited and manipulated what to accept of them. 

This work traces how we have explored, fought, and collided with each other.
These images are the by-products of that process.

The by-products have piled up, and I look again into them.

It was only a little while ago that I realized I am in love with them.








He seemed gay. He was seated next to me at the classroom of graduate school. He was a hard person to simply place inside the box I had labeled ‘gay.’ It was not because of his foreign accent, his exotic looks or the symbolic accessories which I could not recognize. When he put on his makeup for a drag performance, he turned into someone who confused me even more. I tried to put them in the box that said ‘Drag Queen,’ but they did not have the thick lips or exaggerated cheekbones. They weren’t simply headed towards femininity. I have tried, and failed to define them. It was uncanny. There was a strong resistance against my perception, my definitions. Not long after, I even taxidermied them on top of my images to attempt a definition.

I decided to document all the reflections that were doomed to this failure.







Quite a long time has passed since I first saw him. Perhaps, I have yet to truly face him. Could it be my chronic condition? Do I end up projecting myself onto him, even when I look at him, as I persistently try to look for myself?

Every time I had to adapt to new surroundings, after following my parents to this new city, I had to see and read other people. For me, seeing meant observing other people’s desires. Seeing let me meld into the surroundings.

But, the seeing has reached my own Self now.