Criers tracks the ways in which emotions that give way to crying might renew themselves repeatedly (many heads for many moments), while also showing how certain emotions blow the individual open. Emotion surges beyond the perimeters of self. One crier is always many criers. And so here, there is not one individual crier evoking an individual crier. This is a chorus, perhaps even one might call them an army, of criers. Not limited in their expression of a singular emotion – they can contain multitudes. Moreover, they transcend any one individual experience, including that of the artist. Particularly in this time of global pandemic, war, and ecological catastrophe, they gather to mourn or howl or sing as company. In a world so often characterized by capitalist demands of efficiency and good performance, emotions such as grief, surprise, or even wonder can be disruptive. These criers thus stall that which is otherwise run of the mill. They are as rocks that block the cogs in the wheel. They repel the smooth. They are lumps in the throat. They are coughed out. They are not well made. They rise up, under us, like an undercurrent of raw substance. Muddying. Roiling. Disturbing, even. They are an upset of ground we thought was there, unmaking and remaking that ground. The “o” of their mouths is the o of the navel, of the mouth, the heart, the eye, the lung, the void, the hole, the aperture, the rupture, the sphere, the whole, the nothing, the full, the empty, the stone, the sun, the moon, the wound, the world, the breath, the whoosh.