A portrait of the uppercrust through the people the Artist knows best -- the spirits and subconscious demons of his patrons, their drives, rendered, built and building relationships, finessed through layers of lacquer distilled from bird guano mixed with mud and posies.
A rendering of low and vulgar culture, and the Artist should know better than to reveal his subconscious demons, his desire, to pretend at social climbing while sleeping in the gutter.
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The wayward child becomes a criminal, pulled down into the gutter by the roughness of life on the street. The hustler runaway lures the Artist to the backstreets, the darkened background, lifting herself to lounge in his comfy red chair.
BOXED
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[this line, border: marked with a gap -- transgression, regression, going in/out and under]
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)TIME. . .
. . . LIFE(
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OVERTIME
Time opens space, reveals and conceals it.
Bronzino places Time within his play as enemy to the libertine. Time as differentiated from life-time. The libertine would rather cheat Death, the agent of Time and chronicler of Life. Now it is time for Time to put his foot down -- revealing the petty decadence of the libertine, the life she'd like to continue. She's lived high and low and has run out of time.
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THE WALLFLOWER
She's acting stupid, playing dumb... Pressed against the wall, hiding to quietly subvert. To render the central machine FALSE, to lie this way... She claims that she goes further because she's smarter than the rest -- they are so easy to trick... She is the trickster, twisting everything at hand. Pure con, posing as the humbled Arachne, she stares right at you...
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FOLLY
Folly discovers its power later -- long after the last laugh -- in the the realization one is the 'butt of the joke' rather than the beneficiary of its humor. For now, Folly sets traps.
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GUIMARD
She scans the glossy scene for talent, asking everyone to show her. In the street, the scene lacks the refined, defined qualities of her home life and something gets lost. There are no clear cut distinctions in this mass, the urban chorus -- one overwrites another. All intrigue is pedestrian, and Mlle is horrified by the b(l)ase rendering of the unspeakable.
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ARTAUD
Everything has been received and the text is continually revised. When the time comes something will come to me but not at the moment. The channels are open, antennas spread, receiving pictures, noise, and odor. Flooding future memories from below. The little sparks illuminate forms that cannot be explained, requiring enactment. The misconstrued made visible.
I think I can begin now make it stop.
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Sarahserozero.0 = 2somehow
in the space of
heliosAphrodite + apollofollyErosEris [errors] made so lush broken over again aphrogite bends her head her neck straightthenbentrepeat, herspine, herlips, her mouth opens of the blue sea green to build the tonguemachine the bent and twisted straight headsurrounded body of the coupling the unspeakable taboogoo merged and concluded.
I only see it flicker first and fade. unmade again, so gray temporary lostandfound re-membered lost again. everybracket enclosure is insecurity lacks integrity is FALSE and unbelievable. the [] is the wound the entrance, Rodin's Gates of Hell welcome to the bapistry to the kiss. the gray, the opening into the gray, the lost, the blurred. a loss confused, expenditure with gain. the temporary potlatch of this delta, the interpentration high and low that makes the yes a no because there are limits, undeniable, there are seals, locks and bindings, bodies, skin and form. collide to form, the splat, the rippled splash reverbates sneding shockwaves head [pineal eye] to foot[big toe]
....................make it stop..........................
....................dont' make it stop....................
