Pushing the Envelope

Sushi via the U.S. mail? Velveeta boxes affixed with stamps? To Beth Jacobs, it's all art.

A A A Comments By Lisa Gray Thursday, Jun 15 2000

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Beth packed the satanic vermin in a pristine white box filled with packing peanuts; the official-looking return address read "Discount Mouse House." Ricë picked up the package at her post office, and as she carried it out, she worried that Beth had been inspired to buy her a too-expensive Christmas present, maybe an exact replica of the artist's angel rat.

She opened it there in the car, and later wrote Beth about her reaction: shock, then delight. The devil rat was revolting, but revolting in an interesting, personal way, a friendly kind of nastiness.

Deron Neblett

Forget curators. Beth Jacobs uses the U.S. mail to deliver her art to an adoring audience.

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Around that time, Ricë asked Beth to send her a swatch of her hair and some small, personally significant objects. Beth complied -- she shaves her head twice a year anyway -- and besides the hair, she mailed bluebonnet seeds, sharks' teeth and clippings from her cat's claws. She threw in a little rubber stamp of the words "NO MICE."

Ricë sent back a wooden box. Inside glowered an evil-looking six-inch voodoo doll, stuffed and decorated with Beth's oddments. The lock of Beth's hair stood up straight, an exclamation point atop the doll's head. The stamp formed the doll's butt. If the doll sat down, it would leave an imprint of the words.

The doll exuded a powerful mojo: best-wishes voodoo from a friend who not only knew Beth's dark side, but liked it.

Beth immediately wondered what she could send back.

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