stagnanTVowels

fig.87.09) Tremendous Awesome Trauma and isolation in small circles throughout the room and hidden inside the walls themselves. There was this thing when we were kids at school, we really liked Kiefer's work. We'd talk about his ropes and the strewn hay laying on concrete floors in the images that were the hallmarks of his monograph. As his work was cast on their end pages in tart silver tones, all of us read about his openings. Frieze would have written about his paintings being stacked high, sandwiching bailing wire, twine and more straw between stretched canvas like a flattened cookbook just waiting for a strong match. So much fantasy, big and brazen as it is, hiding the fear of a withering cock or a soul born bored and yet unlimited by circumstance. I've heard others speak for the actions of this man, or the great reach of some others. So how is it that each of them found their way, great as they might have been, to just being quiet. All of them finally sat down t

fig.53.23) missing money, hopeless fool Where painting has failed to depict intersections of femme identity with its fluidity, it has instead inserted something like the Fates. Three women, the shrew or crone, the mother and the child with their representative skein or spools being present. Rather, this metaphor is of the latency within the pictures frame itself, a clever interpretation of something like a fractured understanding of dimorphism. Distorted by poverty, her arms held somewhat casually in front of her, one hand holding the other just above the wrist. From my vantage point they resemble an empty basket. My glance stretches on for a second or more, when suddenly she looks up and catches me in her own eye. I start from the shock of being discovered, I meant no harm from it after all. When I was in the shower, all this was happening. The world continued as everything kept changing incrementally, without method or meaning until I returned. While this was happening, I slo