Two hypothetical bodily abstracts
Painterly scenario number 1: Spooning out your orbitals with a palette knife and slathering the provoked blackness of unseeing onto canvas; realizing panicked a desperate authorial need to sign or encrypt the work but suffering under this crippling new condition of blindness, being competent only to form a few gasping shitty smears, black on black. Caught in the smear, leftover optic nerves scatter micro traces of white, a deadpan but burning puncture of otherwise monochromatic tension that reinvents the attempted signatory strands as extinguishing fireworks in a sweet night sky. The metaphor is of dust on the lens. And in lieu of retinal clarity – of visual solids – we are in turn presented with an image of ideas, of memory or dreamscape information: tadpoles floppy and wet; guffawing miasmic spirits as medieval folklore might depict them (crudely figurative in lunatic silhouette); finger traces on a habitual device; slowly dying sperm in a yeasty boil of spunk; pregnant flies smashed at speed into a windshield. All the scatological basics, really. And the impulses here are as light and time-sensitive as a Polaroid.