Mark Jeffery/Judd Morrissey – Rune Peitersen

Mark and Judd:

It’s 5:30 am sunday morning and who will take control of my class or means to “see”


I am sure you are surprised to hear from me


Het was not landhuis,
neith the secret river when it’s on a matter of our brain
arount on wie de aan Baron Smits
my brother likeness and sciousnes in a genderful thing
preventenhuis in coming conver and questigate de Genderhorst
It’s 5:30 am still be raised on the world.

If the like us world
always keep our ideas even by thing
the true lady will serve

if you to a do
and already in a wonder you to are – or smile.
This is a mathemation Smits-van Ooijen

to reciate the ring and part what ways of pictural experiode
and aan Baron Smits on 21st
Peited a number, once familie vanday mixing about
this dag van Ooijen.

There’s also a good flowing
and how small a my dag van
the question overted to fit the hous system

This linen verkocht down.
Upside down and I feel door of our daughting
I don’t means this year’s upside day that a awful the we are two
of living convers artists personally

De name candy would be an awful think if all stree different was neithe redder than the ring

De name has de fabrieksged nog steeds.

The Genderhors



dear Liz


getting more color in your pretty face

From: Judd Morrissey <>
Date: August 3, 2011 8:41:52 PM CDT
To: Rune Peitersen <>
Cc: mark jeffery <>
Subject: 51.4133682, 5.417976


Saccadic Sightings
and the perception of the name
house the pattern
huis is in the other
the secret base
trying to see just a awful lot of us.

The spotlight in you is praying to travel
Martien has decided problems

Let’s keep the name is,

would you to teach there
ever tear apart what the coachman house
(if studentenhuis, De Gender god above.)

I feel two disciplines in what it is or if and who had to travel, but it..

If these we create meaning?
To further in our dezit came

Trying that is: I can alway get home
and put another lesson.

xmas in chicago
8 hours of rest

a long letter will follow this

house POST

theres a fella here in Chicago waiting for you whose name is Candy

Begin forwarded message:

From: Judd Morrissey <>
Date: August 2, 2011 2:16:33 PM CDT
To: Rune Peitersen <>
Cc: mark jeffery <>
Subject: 41.789231, -87.618029 (Hollywood Tailors)


There’s a fellow love high on the periode aan

an image is a mystery
just a linen converted to unnamed number
unsmoothed road to the task

It would like to see the secret base that race of itself
into an unseen fate, a day, and different jobs, etc;
for I can’t have complications, and I am still on view.
Last year’s praying to god about Jew’s ever coming apart —
that home it is the othered road the heavy colors of picture – or, if it is.

Lillian’s Chicken share two colors, and different colors of people like us worked both races

and night for it

and possibly answered me

just a awful lot of you

and I hope it will learn
to mix

Why your linen. It is too the two of us

just as she can always get an image and is sistery

walking down the block

it’s time that I get to work so please look out for candy

Begin forwarded message:

> From: Judd Morrissey <>
> Date: August 1, 2011 8:37:43 PM CDT
> To: Rune Peitersen <>
> Cc: mark jeffery <>
> Subject: Re: 51.4133682, 5.417976
> Rune
> I don’t mind loosing the 20ste
> eeuw brak een nieuwe building in 1958
> It is the first bouwd naar een student it.
> het gekregen door has been converted
> in de dag van Ooije
> (naar een thre are a mystery)
> (815 pm)
> Lillian’s Chicken shack
> 946 east 63rd street
> 41.789231, -87.601790
> Ole Yank Stone

At the Garden

From: Judd Morrissey <>
Date: July 30, 2011 10:55:22 AM CDT
To: Rune Peitersen <>
Cc: mark jeffery <>
Subject: Mutualisms


In de 20st
During the was-methods.
The factory, The Gender

About the ways. I am in a shel.

My brother men of both day and time
given by us as a studentenhuis in gebruik
boven linnen beter bestand

In 1988
het took me an awful lot
op de dag van vandaag nog steeds
een converted into an unseen fate.

a misfit family
remembered me, but it took a new periode aan.

You told me that, for you and I to mix, there would be bad blood
living in part and landhuis,
De Genderstand tegen de nieuwe ways of life.

waiitng outside
bleeding heart


Dear Judd and Mark,

Judging by the photos the letters seem to be dated around 1960, sent from different cities. Can you make out a Dutch address? Perhaps I could see if I could find the home of the sender of the letters….somehow that would reassure me, I think. I would have something to bring with me to Chicago, a follow-up to a conversation that took place 50 years ago. Or maybe I’m just rambling now…I need to find myself a Belgian beer before I go to sleep…

Thanks, send more letters and see you soon,

Mark and Judd:

dear Rune,

Where? How to begin? How are you?

Its 6pm on Wednesday evening, it’s 82 degrees warm, I am sitting at my desk with a bottle of Belgian Beer, and NPR Alls things considered is on the radio. I am in my office in the back of the house and the sound of the radio comes from the Kitchen.

We found the following writing today in a small margarine cardboard box. There was this one and many more. Writing to and from the former owner of this house we now live in on Iowa Street in the Ukrainian neighbourhood on the west side of Chicago. The former owner lived here in this house, in Chicago, and was dutch.

..and I am wondering if I can reach you in your sleep. Just want to say that; I am still in love with you, and am hoping one day to regain the love, and respect, plus confidence, that you once had for me. To me the one thing is that; I am too deep in my work, and let my cares come second. I dont know why I am so dumb. Please excuse me. Know something; I know now that you’re a part of me, and i want it that way…


…There are so many things I want to say to you I’m not sure where to start..have a good sleep, and take care..

Judd and Mark


-not really a Mutualism text, I fear, but it might give an impression of my state of mind at the moment (in between projects, exhibitions and revolutions ;-))…more soon! Rune

The Pebble

To the left is the ocean. The beach stretches out in front. There are dunes to the right.

Smooth sand underneath feet and between toes. Hot sun mixed with the cool sprinkling of sweat. Ocean-salt and half-rotten seaweed. The waves whisper, and the wind sings.

A speck appears. Head tilts and back arches. Arm extends, hand reaches out. Fingers seek out something in the sand, and I pick up a pebble.

My eyes squint in the bright light as I curiously bring the pebble to a good viewing position.

First it appears grey and dull. As I bring it closer to my eyes, colors appear. Green hues, blues, deep purples. I look closer still. Miniscule white dots are scattered on one side. A starry night appears in my eye. It covers my entire field of view. I look beyond the stars and slip deeper into the night. There are worlds here, and time. The Universe rests between my fingertips.

I turn the pebble around. On the other side there are small deformations in the surface. Lines. They bend and intersect. They connect and form complex patterns. Letters appear, and words. Indecipherable sentences and meaningless stories start to emerge. There is intention here, and purpose. There is a sender and a receiver. I read the stone.

The pebble appears to be gneissic rock. The patterns have been forged over millions of years. Different layers of rock have been broken down and compressed. Its name may derive from ‘to sparkle’, or from ‘worthless trash’. It may have witnessed the creation of the continents and the filling of the oceans. Except pebbles do not witness anything.

I feel my arm shoot back, my shoulder ache. I am stretched out from the toe to my fingers. I do not see the pebble anymore, my eye is momentarily blinded by the sun. As I feel myself contracting like a slingshot, the pebble is released from my fingers. My eye tracks it. It turns into a speck again, peripheral movement. It vanishes out of my sight, then into the water and finally out of my mind.

The wind goes cold, a cloud covers the sun. I lost something. I search for another pebble, first casually, then looking as hard as I can. The beach is perfect smooth sand. There are no more pebbles.

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