The blog version of Give Blood Magazine, est. 1972

Is it me, or is it my vision?

My photo
My first memory is of losing my glasses. Had they not been found, folded carefully on the top edge of the sea wall, where would we be today?

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Painting in Tongues

They begin most often with a headache, a migraine that disrupts perception from within, a postnasal trickle of vision. The mildest are simply archaeologies, incised mental images that are revealed by our brushes’ ability to wisk away the overlaid gravel and dust. In these grooved inscriptions we find confirmation of the truth of the old stories, reassert our ancient civilization.

More clinically serious are the prophecies and hallucinations. Can we credibly claim that we of the winged sandal are the deliverers of a divine message? Only with the greatest humility and the most potent psychoactive pharmacology. And yet, let the glyphs shown here speak for themselves…

The term “earlyposthuman” spans both these realms, a semi- fictional zone that persists between the revelation of the Shittite Heresies and that imminent moment when our soft sculpture finally hits the fan. Here we find items as mundane as a horoscope and as cosmologically tainted as instructions for planetary evacuation.

Click Here for Frequently Asked Questions about Art. Yes, it’s true that transcription errors have occurred between inner and outer space. But much of the true story is still discernable within these images.

This series of nine postings present the pieces as shown in my recent exhibition:

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