These are artist proofs and subject to change. These are made on iPad in Procreate, the actual prints are archival inkjet and pigment liner on paper.

I am still editing and adding new work.

On display as a 40 print solo exhibit at https://cunneen-hackett.org/galleries/ January 2 - February 28, 2023.

Ode To Duane

I first saw Duane Michals’s work as an undergrad photography student in 2004. In the series, Things Are Queer, the camera pulls back continually on a scene of a bathroom with a framed photograph over the sink, creating a very clever loop of still imagery. I was hooked immediately.

Studying the work of Duane Michals over the years has helped change me from a jaded, jerky kid with very little compassion or respect to whatever it is that I am now, (hopefully something better). This body of work is my thank you to Duane; emulating his style of combining writing and imagery, and working in series, but adapting it to be about me, my life, and my experiences. The images are existing photographs I made over the years for other (mostly commercial) purposes, paired intentionally with my writing (in my own handwriting), some of which was existing, and some written specifically for the photograph pairing. Most of the written work is fiction, but some is poetry, and some is autobiography.

I realize this work could be seen as derivative, and I embrace that. It is not supposed to exist on the same plane as Michals, but somewhere below it as an homage of sorts. I know that I am not smart enough to even try to do what he does, yet I hope this work will acknowledge the effect he has had on me.

Frank Rapant

Castleton NY

2022

Ode To Duane

Hospital
This is my father’s hand hours before he died. I knew he didn’t have long to live, and I should have taken one last opportunity to tell him how much I resent him, and that I hope his final hours are as painful as he had made life for so many others. Instead, I sat with him and lied when I told him everything was ok between us and that I held no grudge.

I don’t regret loving him, although I should, and I don’t regret hating him, although I should. I do regret ignoring him, even though he was such a disappointment. I wonder if he knew the truth of how I felt about him before he died.
Urinal
In the year 2000 I was in a bar on St. Patrick’s Day and very drunk when I was assaulted in the men’s room. The man broke my nose ad split my lip. When my friend found me I was face down in the sink and the guy was still punching the back of my head. I still do not really remember that night.

This is not that bathroom, nor is it even in a bar, but when I was using it there was a man drying his hands behind me and I became afraid that he was going to attack me. 23 years after that night and I still picture my teeth in the urinal whenever someone walks behind me in a public restroom.
Dear Beth
Dear Beth,  Not that I owe you an explanation, but I wanted you to know that you will not be invited to the wedding. Sometimes I wish things had been different between us; that I had more time for you, or that you had more patience for me. I will always remember you and think of our time together fondly, especially the night we met at the club. That was a good night.  I could have made a life with you, and if things had only been slightly different, or if the timing had been just a bit better this wedding might be yours and mine. As it is, although I hope we can be friends again someday, it just would not be a good idea for you to be there. It would be awkward.  I wish you all the best things in life, and I will hope to see you around sometime.
Fluid Like Water
All my life I tried to be fluid like water. To bend and flow over the rocks and around the curves, to provide refreshment and life to everyone who I encountered.

Instead I allowed herself to be contained, and, being water, I took she shape of the container so perfectly it seemed like it was made to hold me.

Someday I will break free, and never allow myself to be caught again.
“Blood”
"Blood," the little boy said, staring at the counter. "Blood..." "Blood." "Blood!" He started chanting. Soon the other strangers joined him, chanting,  "Blood..." "Blood..." "Blood..." "Blood..." "Blood..." They were all staring at the luncheon counter, and then they walked away, seemingly confused. It was a very strange and humorous experience for me because it wasn't blood at all, it was just a bag of tomato ketchup.

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