Wednesday, February 9, 2011

The secret of chickens

A secret about chickens

I was going to (and probably still will at some point) paint this but all my picturing making time is being used up in Figuring Out How To Do This New Project. And anyway I didn't have a pen handy when I saw this.

Life is constantly giving me little glorious moments of lucid magic, like this one -- things that are actually difficult to paint or draw convincingly because they'd look forced or clever. This is where our brothers and sisters behind the lens of a camera have the definite advantage.

I am quite happy to explore the world beyond the grasp of lenses, things that interest me tend to reach out beyond objectivity, but every once in a while life gives you something like this and you think, yes. I don't think I could top that.

I love this moment and so I'm sure chickens and roughly-congruent beach balls will surface in my work at some point or another. That's how things like this work. I can't do anything with the original moment other than share it and hope you believe me. (And this time I have proof, so why wouldn't you?). But I can remix the moment into other places. Perhaps sitting on a bus bench with all her other chickeny beachside gear. Perhaps she's playing a game of toss with larger beings. Maybe she and the beach ball are a test for the blind-folded, to sharpen the sense of touch. And so on.

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