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CLOAK/4.4The blue tiles have tumbled from the towers of Herat—against the Persian sky their celestial suggestions have withered into soiled bone ends of the built.The pumpkin-colored lichens splashed across Tikal's gray terraces are unapproximate reminders of the pinks that tantalized the cocoa god. Ground to dust the glass eyes fallen from between the Athenian statues' painted lids, the long lashes dyed to match the braided wigs long dust, the gilded wigs long dust, the eyelids long since past faded to assume the frozen white of folktales' terminally affrighted— time's unkindness to hue and adhesion, and what is done despite it. |
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The illusion of sustained brilliance—in fact, the ability to recover from a multitude of acts of
momentary brilliance, after every one of which a fall occurs, as in the frames of film. A construction of a series of successful moments—thus a painting, or a piece of sculpture, music, a Wimbledon championship. |
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Drawing a line is progress and erasing it is also progress— revalue these values and acquire temporal ambidexterity— forward and back like film on a spool, a long frozen moment it could take years to perfect wrapping and shredding and grinding and polishing the prizes and confetti to fill a moment folded like a cone. The single most important thing to remember about art is that it doesn't matter what time it is. Momentum is ice cream, drive deep the forge hot scoop. |