︎ Spaces ︎
︎ Object_Image ︎
Noa Mori —
Machover
Hi, I’m Noa (she/they). I’m an artist, writer, designer, researcher, synthetic biologist, and organizer. I’m fascinated by urban political ecologies, socio-technical-ecological systems, and futurist animisms. I dream of expansive futures not flattened by a colonial conception of the future as a fixed destination to be controlled.
I am a lo-fi bedroom-synth pop producer and a bioplastic designer/engineer/environmental strategist.
You can reach me by email, and find me on instagram and are.na.
Peace Was Never
they shot a peanut in the back last week
a tired ritual or a thin veil
better concealed as a kind of fear
or a love of private property
a neon ticking light from the
waters depth responds
“peace on earth is possible”
blinks twice, fades to black
from bikini atoll
with a flair of uss independence
operation crossroad left
a kind of damage
to be easily confused with
600,000 gallons of radioactive fuel
in bayview hunters point
and 300 10-day eviction notices
invitations to leave again
or to imagine a free space that is here
or to sit in front of flashing tv screens
sobbing through daybreak
“peace was never an option"
a golden gate garden club
packages coveted earth
not the kind to be buried in Utah
with half lives of millennia
a tired ritual or a thin veil
better concealed as a kind of fear
or a love of private property
a neon ticking light from the
waters depth responds
“peace on earth is possible”
blinks twice, fades to black
from bikini atoll
with a flair of uss independence
operation crossroad left
a kind of damage
to be easily confused with
600,000 gallons of radioactive fuel
in bayview hunters point
and 300 10-day eviction notices
invitations to leave again
or to imagine a free space that is here
or to sit in front of flashing tv screens
sobbing through daybreak
“peace was never an option"
a golden gate garden club
packages coveted earth
not the kind to be buried in Utah
with half lives of millennia
fluorescent tongues
and bodies that are ocean blasts
screaming
“i'm just happy to be here"
lips sewn by
3 happy hour margaritas
1 cafe mocha soylent
and 2 stunningly toned arms
but we think with other timelines
the time to weave from ravages
the time imposed on exhausted bodies
no longer concerned with
cleansing or removal
of soiled layers of toxicity
as if they could ever be lifted
a serpent with arms
at the water’s edge
replaces the stolen “two mile” sign
on the road to a town that didn’t want company
where salmon licked salt crystals
when they only had
two eyes
whispering sweet nothings from haida
mapping shorelines and mothers
“make america sacred again"
and bodies that are ocean blasts
screaming
“i'm just happy to be here"
lips sewn by
3 happy hour margaritas
1 cafe mocha soylent
and 2 stunningly toned arms
but we think with other timelines
the time to weave from ravages
the time imposed on exhausted bodies
no longer concerned with
cleansing or removal
of soiled layers of toxicity
as if they could ever be lifted
a serpent with arms
at the water’s edge
replaces the stolen “two mile” sign
on the road to a town that didn’t want company
where salmon licked salt crystals
when they only had
two eyes
whispering sweet nothings from haida
mapping shorelines and mothers
“make america sacred again"
November 2019
Winnemem Wintu Chief Caleen Sisk organizes a 300-mile trek, the “Run4Salmon," following the historical journey of salmon from the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta to the Winnemen, raising awareness about politics threatening sacred waters, fish, and indigenous lifeways. The “stained glass” portrait depicts a member of the Winnemem Wintu Tribe with a Sacred Salmon (Nur). The "wrought iron gates” explore the imaginable, though impossible (?) proposition of peace on earth. These works are part of a project investigating the history and ongoing effects of environmental racism in Bayview Hunters Point, San Francisco, and the violence that is both enacted and resisted through the imperative of world-building.