Torque, Jelly Role, and Goose Bump
1997, wrapping in words:
All out. Pointing. And a twist.
Like a spider.
The frames of the work and the frames in the room. Moving, squeaking past each other. Butting shoulders shadows. Not managing to contain the contents spilling. This and that suspended in the air despite the heavy bother of each sitting splat and flat on the floor.
Sprouting from one eye hook. The eye of the storm; projecting from the eye ejecting
bits and pieces in space. Bunched up. Tied together. Squeezing tight in a knot together and flying away pushing asunder.
A magnet couldn’t do it.
Animal hide. The gray color is the pivot. Rolling twice. The gesture is a twist. But there is comfort sitting by the story of fire.
Black fur – black word. The red swing projected out in front of the picture plane and pulled back. Held by Tension.
Solidly sitting here in the room. Between places; two architectures structure the edges.
Domestic turmoil. but fairy tales enter. Fairy dust and ring of bright water.
A landscape zippered in time blowing out of the dust balls behind the couch on a quiet day sheltered from the gray of the rain outside. And so the hot orange and ochre pull the train. Trailing and flapping in the wind the caravan has always been moving on, even while having trouble getting started. Spluttering and taut, filled with anger/rage. Like a cat fighting but soft and long the curl beside the fire.
Stepping in small increments from the wall slowly; also shooting out with quickness.
Slow turn jelly role
Slow Jelly role Fizz
Role Jelly Fizz
Slow Jelly rolled goose bumps
Hit the ground running
Story of Torque, Rolled Jelly, and Goose Bump:
Torque Jelly Role and Goose Bump sat by the fire one morning /evening/night and day.
Torque never came to pass. He just sat there like Jelly looking at the future.
Jelly Role enjoys every minute of his life, never thinks of time. and Goose Bump was exhilarated, full of fancy and pleased as punch. Soaring a head.
Rolled Jelly meanders merging and puddling in the center not at all aware of edge. Nothing moves but Torque insists on pressure nevertheless. When things do happen Eyes and feet have moved all round soaring faster than the speed of things plodding goose bumps rise high into the fairy dust singing.
Story of Fire squeezed aroused around Flickering. Angled spot of shoulder bruised the edges. Entered conversation with age spots. Age spots struggle with Beauty for beauty.