"As an urban Acupuncturist my canvas is a transport pallet. I print pictures onto wood. In this work similar expressions of the protagonists, a baby orangutan and baby Beju remind me of a Puerto Rican author F Vizcarrondo. Inspired by him Beju wrote a poem "And your Granma?" to accompany this piece." See below for the poem Aided by her "Contagious Enthusiasm", Sherryl Muriente creates collaborative cross-disciplinary live art projects under the lens of urban acupuncture. Through the process of grounded theory, she identifies a story or "local knowledge" from which she finds inspiration which serves as a catalyst to transform the larger urban context. These subtle interventions resonate into a larger impact on the collective subconscious of those living in the city. Her creativity focuses on happenings, performance art, art installations and live art in both solo shows and in directing others as a group in collective work. As an instructor in Urban Planning at FAU, she works with students on short term "Urban Intervention" assignments, which are 1:1 scale installations and performance pieces held outdoors in the urban landscape. In 2013 she created an artist duet named LeJobart with her husband, sculptor Beju. Together they apply her theories through art installations.
Take a look at her website www.lejobart.net.
Beju says "When I last met Chucky (one of the orangutans at the Center for Great Apes) and talked to him for nearly an hour he asked me this:
"Yours black or white, soft as thin air Mine of many, under thick hair Your skin is smooth, mine not so fair. And your Granma, how might she be?
You speak softly, I grunt and growl You swear and scream, my screech is loud Your voice is clear, mine but a cloud And your Granma, who might she be?
My dear Granma, she looked like me Helix errors, made you pretty So now you brag, ignoring me. And your Granma, how might she be?
Proudly I bear, my Granma's face Ashamed you swear, yours to replace Out of nowhere, from outer space. But your Granma, where might she be?
Glance for a while, into my eyes, Soon you will see, you'll realize Just as your own, my laughs and cries So your Grandma, who might she be?
Your Granddaddy, without query My Granma's son, was born to be Your family? Dwells on my tree For your Granma, Son she calls me."