Once upon a twilight doubleheader...

circa 1969

In a sea of red and white dotted along the periphery, vertigo loses surrealism. The resultant encompassing fisheye view, panoramic in Cinemascope, of the diamonded greenery below, though joyous, distorts all contiguous space/time continuum, elongating heretofore husky torsos. Beauty fully realized as cognitive concept beyond normal parameters, inexorably slides head first, a conscienceless Charlie Hustle.

FADE out.

To the north on the lost horizon bounded by geopolitical fissures encasing a gold mountain stands a faded nondescript three-storey building, heads and shoulders above its siblings, the perfect height from where Alfred Hitchcock looms, arms outstretched holding cotton candy peering in awe of the spectacle of battles won.

Boom goes the successive bangs, a manmade flurry of thunder and lightning framed and contextualized by three thousand years and a great wall.

SWIPE in.

Hands holding two hot dogs semaphore a nautical message from one corner back to home as a thumb lost in the jungle rematerializes before a stunned knuckleballer, his fractured knee cap aquiver.

The ghost of the Polish cowboy is finally dead and can be put to rest in peace.

"...like the willow in the wind"

The dynamics of geographical orientation often form uneasy allegiances between natural enemies because which way the wind blows determines obtuse tracjectories launched from solid sphere impacting against oblong cylinder. This process reflects the superficiality that is the madding crowd at the proverbial fork-in-the-road, the penultimate flip-of-the-coin. Go deep or run shallow; stay true or fly the coop.

Yet stereotypes persist as to how meteorology affects individual behavior transformed into a collective consciousness. North means industry while South represents agriculture. Fast versus slow; cold against hot.

And in the city that Carl Sandberg associates with big shoulders, the equation so historical flip-flops. Blue collar work ethic then borne of the union stockyards immortalized by Upton Sinclair gravitates southerly suffering from an inferiority complex explainable only in terms of perceived classism.

Inevitably the Brahmin caste is left holding the door as the untouchables hurry through. So join the meek (or downtrodden) to inherit the earth.

Notes on an entirely different solar system

Oversized shurikens, each a lovely shade of baby pastel twinkle, embedded as if thrown along the perimeter of where ceiling meets wall. Around their orbit hang miniature Alexander Calderish mobiles in itself another self-contained universe ad infinitum.

The constellations then form haphazard patterns all over Jackson Pollock armwrestling Elsworth Kelly that appear quite dangerously razor sharp. Yet the weight of these Oldenburgian worlds feel heavyhanded to the degree that nothing light exists about how these pentagrammic forms behave in the modest company of chevrons, poured drips or target circles.

Following the trajectory of an open face club, a sand wedge, though, so intently often strains the neck muscle beyond the normal stratospheric airspace violation. Neil Armstrong does take aim and drive the capsule several light years away.

The heavens full of pent-up fury descend.

Notes on nawa shibari

Streamlined tubular chair in black leather handsomely upholstered over hidden birchwood ergonomically hogtied in suspension adjacent an upturned vintage vinyl barstool frozen by not-so-hidden puppet strings. Each knot the perfect bowtie, looped so its tapered legs thrust awkwardly in pain, lower back twisted, upper torso bent over. Hemp cords bruise the matte finish as bound limbs in limbo risk major injury to fragile anterior cruciate ligaments. Imagine Cornelia Parker meets Araki where submerged libidos reach a strange climax and sleek vogue design bends over to grab its ankles.