There’s a phenomenon in a human’s sensory pathways where visual stimuli can evoke an automatic experience in a second sensory pathway. For example, envision Velcro — you’ve seen Velcro, sure, but have you ever licked it? Likely not, but you can imagine exactly how it would feel against your tastebuds.
Applying this concept from taste perception to tactile perception, what do you imagine the sun’s texture would be? Flamelike with ribbons of fire, or at ground level, scorched rock like how one might imagine Mars? The title of Xxavier Edward Carter’s latest show, The Sun’s Texture, invites you to ponder this for yourself but doesn’t leave you wondering for long.
Xxavier Edward Carter is an influential transdisciplinary artist based in Dallas, TX, his work spans the gamut of videos, publications, recordings, paintings, installations, and performance and is inspired by “personal interactions, media bombardment, observed and lived experiences, and material excess/waste influence.” Carter is also the founder of Empire of Dirt, a transnational art collective that provides a platform for underrepresented artists and leads conversations around play, sovereignty, spirituality, and sustainability. Both Carter and Empire of Dirt were represented in The Sun’s Texture at Golden Blk Candle Lounge, a lounge tucked away in the Design District neighborhood that is part candle bar, part event space, and part community hub.
Whenever I originally saw the invitation describing the opening reception as “an offering of ceramic objects,” “an exploration of ceremony,” and “a journey into the world of the senses,” I was immediately hooked. What could that mean? What would a journey into the world of senses be like? Although it had been a busy week and an even busier day, I was drawn to this event and knew I couldn’t miss it.
The performance took place in the candle-making room of the lounge — dimly lit and intimate, with enough chairs for just a handful of people.
“We are here to light the world,” Carter announces as he begins the ceremony. Around a horseshoe-shaped bar, there are dozens of incense holders handmade by Carter with clay. Some are rough and matte, smooth and shiny, some oblong and some round, but all are created to cradle a singular joss stick. Two by two, the incense is lit, but before he moves on to light the next pair, he blows out the flame, allowing the fragrant smoke to fill the room. The smoke dances in the space, twisting and turning, becoming an increasingly larger visual component of the piece as time goes on.
In the background, there are three screens playing videos on a loop. Two, flanked left and right, are videos of Carter himself, covered head to toe in black garb, standing in the middle of a grass field with a baseball bat, hitting balls of clay that explode on impact. The video playing in the center, although similar, has components that are exactly the opposite. Instead of being completely covered, the model is naked, instead of a field of dried grasses and wheat, the scene is set on a beach with ocean views, but the act remains the same: hitting items with a baseball bat and watching them disappear.
Between lighting and extinguishing the incense, you can hear a melodic meditation of spoken word by Carter — “light puts things into perspective,” “away from destruction into softness,” “magic, like gravity, holding the world together,” “to be both the rock and the hard place,” and a very poignant “aren’t we all just kind of dust?” We’re asked to think about the ceremonies with flame, how we will light a candle to “manifest and call forth,” to cleanse, to bring light, to invite in the pain — “think of a birthday without a candle.”
The ceremony continues — behind the rows of rock-like incense holders — a collection of candle-making supplies sits on a cart. Pouring ingredients into a large metal pot, stirring here and there, the poem continues, and another batch is then poured into the pot. The location of the show suddenly makes sense — Carter is creating a candle — not just any candle, but one that burns for 700 hours, about one month, we learned. Carter, a ceramic artist, not only made candles specifically for and during this performance but also created the clay vessels that house them. The candles are made with a curated blend of bergamot, black pepper, vanilla, and Tuscan tobacco.
We aren’t given any context to the scent, but I can’t help but wonder about the symbolism of these ingredients: bergamot represents “renewal and life,” black pepper “power and prosperity,” vanilla “love and strength,” and Tuscan tobacco “heritage and tradition.”
During the performance, I found myself closing my eyes and savoring each sensation — the sound of Carter’s words, the comfort of the dimly lit room, the smell of the incense and candles burning. I understand why Carter describes his work as “an exploration of ceremony” — it would be one thing to see photos of this work, perhaps a snapshot of a candle with smoke shapes above — but something entirely different to experience it in person. To be in this intimate setting, to be held in his words, to be held in this space.
“We are here to light the world,” a meditation in itself just in these seven words. Literally, with candles and flame, and figuratively, with our gifts, just as Carter shared with us.
Xxavier Edward Carter’s The Sun’s Texture was staged at the Golden Blk Candle Lounge.