Peasants. They wouldn't understand. Or perhaps couldn't. Yes. I like that. Their brains too small to grasp the magnitude of this installation.
My art has always... eluded those without intellect.
For example, to the untrained eye and mind, my first installation looked like a series of bricks, forming a wall. If you didn't notice the mortar, it looked just like that. A wall. "Oh, hey, is this the wall guy?" That's how the peons remembered me. The wall guy.
My next installation wasn't much better. Televisions playing to televisions, broadcasting video of televisions. This was before Facebook, even. Don't tell...
Spinning. Maybe not the most productive way to spend the day. But I couldn't think of anything better.
At least not when I was 6. So those lazy summer days were spent spinning whenever I could. Falling down in the leaves just made it happy bonus time.
Of course, that was well before the incident. I was spinning down what I thought was an empty street. Spinning because I knew that would make the daily trip to the store more fun. Because one of the perks of living that close to school and being friends with the principal was that...
Mr. JoJo had dreamt of owning his own ice-creamatorium for years now. he had gone into the family business after high school, trading pencils and books for stainless steel and embalming fluid. At first he found it as good as any other job available to him, living in the small, isolated hamlet that he did - 50 people in his senior class. But as the years passed, he grew to hate it with an ever more ferocious intensity. So three months ago he made his decision, two months ago he'd signed the lease for the storefront on Main Street, and...
He smoked pipes, ate limes, ate the gnats he swiped from the air. The lions lounged in the front yard. He chose lions because of the theme of pride. He had a rudimentary but certain understanding of pride. He stood at the front window staring at the lions, locking eyes as often as he could.
The doorbell rang. He turned quickly, spilling a squall of wine on the hardwood floor. The lions didn't stir. He heard a knock on the door. The lions stared at him.
The wind blows between my toes. It tickles the little hairs on my big toes and reminds me I forgot to shave them. Those two little hairs on each big toe make me feel like I'm never totally girly. All these scars on my legs, too. The scar from the broken beer bottle my dad left in his car. Bad memories attached to that one. Eleven stitches, and a trip to the beach after where I couldn't get my leg wet. Those aren't the bad memories tangled up with that scar. The beer bottle, the alcoholism, the drugs: the father...
It was an early morning on Wavelike Island. The water was crystal clear and the sky was grey. The water washed up against the shore, creating soothing sounds that echoed all around the Island. The rocks around the island grew more mouldy by the minute from the water crashing up against them. The trees in the distance swayed gently while the sky rumbled with the noise of an oncoming storm.
It started to rain, and a shape appeared in the sky, resembling a bird of some type. People from far away looked at the Island and saw the bird-like shape...
I was mesmerized by the number of mirrors it took to cover the surface area. I began calculating in my head, when suddenly my arm was yanked forward by a woman wearing enough hair spray to suffocate the entire discotheque. Her smile was wide and gregarious and I counted the teeth exposed by her ruby red lips. She shouted something at me, leaning her head in a coy yet inviting manner. We stepped on the color-changing tiles and I estimated the surface area by counting the squares on the perimeter. The beat increased and my heart pumped faster to match....
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. Once, in Bucharest, a old man in a red scarf lost his way on a familiar street. Once, in Brooklyn, a young boy in red shoes ran home from school as fast as he could. Today, in a red coat, I found the answer to my final question.
Snow was falling bringing the kind of cold that made you huddle into your coat. I walked across a field I crossed every day. Hopped the stile and cut through a stand of trees to reach the bus...
The giant knelt, and threaded the palm trees through his fingers. Lifted his hand slowly, snapping the thinner branches, but not the strongest, fruit baring limbs. He cupped the six or seven coconuts he pulled free and shook them.
The giant's thumb flicked the coconuts into his mouth one at a time. The shells crunched weakly between his teeth.
He finished his handful and set about feeling around the tips of the trees for another. A monkey watched him and sat there trying to figure out a way to profit from this situation, without
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