A Tournament of Lies

Six o’clock, TV hour, don’t get caught in foreign tower
Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn
Lock him in uniform and book burning, blood letting
Every motive escalate, automotive incinerate
Light a candle, light a motive, step down, step down
Watch a heel crush, crush, uh oh, this means no fear
Cavalier, renegade and steer clear
A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies
Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives, and I decline
— REM, “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)”

A Tournament of Lies gathers 46 artists to Wassaic in hopes of harnessing the infinite energy of the life imitates art imitates life imitates art dynamo. Among them, Corrie Steckelberg’s burlap deer is consumed from the inside by seeds lying in wait to receive the summer rain, Molly Bertheaud’s mythological tapestries loose a volley of arrows upon idyllic animal islands while Lan Xu looses the unicorn from its woven captivity with the power of Photoshop, Amy Vázquez combines rituals old and new to bridge the everyday and the otherworld, and Stephen Morrison’s canine friends cordially invite you to an all-dog dinner party. Let the games begin.