Scholarly writing:
Download MA Thesis, “Made in China: Implications of Authorship and Historical Studio Practices on Modern Chinese Art.”
Links to Published Articles
Art Focused:
"Talking With New Wave of Moscow Graffiti Artists" by Alli Rath, The Moscow Times, Feb. 2012.
"Abramovic Retrospective Makes Art Come Alive" by Alli Rath, The Moscow Times, Oct. 2011.
"Cultural Diplomacy and Soviet Art" by Alli Rath, Electrum Magazine, Sept. 30, 2013.
"We Can Do Better for the Arts" by Alli Rath, The Stanford Daily, Oct. 2013.
Health Focused:
“Bin’s Story: Powerlifting for Weight Loss” by Alli Rath, nakedlabs.com, Feb. 2018.
“Brett’s Story: Optimizing a New Routine” by Alli Rath, nakedlabs.com, Feb. 2018.
“Healthy Habits We Can Learn from Other Countries” by Alli Rath, nakedlabs.com, Mar. 2018.
Copywriting:
Responsible for most copy on nakedlabs.com.
Poetry:
Paper Tigers
Show me the secrets
contained in your veins,
soft as thunder,
the days of old
hang inscrutable.
Hold me
in your jade arms. Or
maybe it is you
who should be held.
Restless at night, I
just wanted to be sure.
It got cold,
felted skin
indifferent
to your bright eyes.
I waited for
Eastern suns, pretty
things. Be still, shadows.
Drape the night across
your shoulders like
a mink stole. Cold
in the clearest thoughts,
we curled together and
awaited the paper tiger.
His appearance to us
was fancy, the water
clear.
Exquisite Crows
I often think it’s time
laying quietly
in my pocket
that has mostly disappeared.
Your inclination is
the crows
--what a sight for a hungry fox--
placate the stars.
You would know a beautiful young
Thing but she never was
Yours to touch, one
of those God-forsaken
unreal recollections.
So you start
plucking the shadows
darkly I came as a surprise.
You come gradually, a
brilliance later
fulfilled
--only deadly dull--
One cold and alive—is it too much to ask?
We stare into careless conversation,
go crazy--
there are ways
to survive on anything.
As far as I know, he is
Still Waiting. Train
yourself for fear
makes the bears dance.
Now I am quietly
counting
so far as I know I have forgotten.
Attila reconstructed.
Without the lions
the young wolves mostly
disappeared.
A lady in foxes in my pocket, my
heart is something small
and black. You
will go mixed
with whatever
without
the range of a pair.
A serious, semi-
retractable vulpine
mess.
Harry and the Leviathan
There was something decidedly fine
In numbing the pain
We must try not to follow
Midnight with indecent haste.
And don't worry Marcus Brutus
It is the unknown
we fear.
In addition to its sub-par
espresso techniques, it was
passive and troubled.
It seemed to burn
in stark, beautiful contrast
to this mess—it is not
real.
No...
No…
I think I'll just go.
But why on earth
should that mean
our dreams are the reverse?
After all, satyrs, fauns, nymphs,
and the like briefly deliver
Us from this ignorance.
To the well-organized mind,
a nighttime stroll is generally preferable
to lies grounded upon
certain texts of Aristotle.
My heart is in my pocket.
Death is but the next
great adventure, so please
take another glass of wine.
It needed something there, perhaps
a psychoactive stimulant drug, which
sounds about right. And seeing dreams,
he has great expectations
about the decay of the motion or
maybe an obscuring of it.
Fairies, ghosts, and goblins know
how to distinguish because
they must always embrace things
but this one thing has a disobliging habit
of speeding up.
Schizophrenic Recruits Enjoy Pancakes
Rational creatures like to think
the truth
is generally preferable
to lies.
I wander, ever on
But I think I might be lost.
(And in the produce section, no less!)
No, I think I'll just go,
with indecent haste
I traveled away
From him because
I was
within
and
without
presented some illusion.
We need to know
not all those
who wander
are
Loved.
in the wake of our thrust-upon dreams,
We must try not to sink
beneath,
the world is grey.
You could snuggle, but
What is the point?
I just wanted to be sure.
I don’t want you.
I couldn't sleep.
It got cold.
It's against the rules.
Stay out of trouble.
The tigers have this
disobliging habit
of proving mildly scary
but
never quite
enough.
I must follow if I can
I keep trying, but they
won’t let me.
Why on earth
is it not invincible?
--Won’t let me.
I panicked.
“I’ve been drunk for about a week now.”
I wander, but I think I might be lost.
“You can
have him
any
damn
time
you want,”
--but I think
it’s all happening inside
your head.
And I always thought it might
sober
me up
to wander.