Ideation

The struggle of dead boughs in a sea of briars and vines. The briars at once the sea and its treacherous rocks. The crashing waves of unconscious eroticism. The billowing spumes of fantasy. The spray at once desire and the bodies of sea nymphs. The unearthly glow of the sun, through its emissary the moon. The briars becoming the sea and its rocks, the sea becoming desire and its fulfillment, desire becoming the dead boughs breathed to new life again, struggling against the briars and the vines.

Newly living, aching boughs...the hallucinatory incarnation of severed limbs. Atrophied aspirations. Thorns, prickles, needles. The scathes of the past become instruments in a specular sweatshop. Skin and cloth, hand and glove are one. The needle that pricks the finger becomes the finger, its hallucinatory incarnation. We could give it other names. We could, arbitrarily, call it anything. The force we name gives force to our lives. We choose our authoritarian executioner.



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