Tuesday, April 2, 2013
text || Lawrence Upton
Upright rectangle blurred to a circle, many bright stars, garish colour.
Axle growing through the centre of voids. It's yellow, almost leafless; sky curves underneath the ground, which is transparent. Our soil is largely sand, hemmed in repeatedly by rubble.
Feet of a hanged man swinging a head's height above a broken path.
Doors open automatically; clouds cover the sun; doors close automatically. One rectangle will succeed in covering a rectangle, both blurring.
& amongst indistinct shape, illusion - self-consciousness of appearance; figures building themselves in open clandestinity... what can be seen is skin
what persists will not survive; what survives will not persist; self-destruction makes weigh, anchoring graphical exaggeration
enigmas fill gaps; worship follows; then sentimentality
a new boom sweeps across a narrowed sky
take cover with your ears
unwanted tv images
make up and plastic
paint and lighting