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lundi, novembre 01, 2004

Some display of amazing craftsmanship courtesy of Mr J.Lethem

The elongated rectangular grid of the streets, these rows of narrow houses,seen from above, at dusk in late october: imagine the perspective of a flying man. What sense would he make of the figures below, a white woman with her black hair whirling as she struck with the flat of her hand at the shoulders and back of a black teenager on the corner of Nevins and Bergen? Is this a mugging? Should he swoop down, intervene?
Who does this flying man think he is anyway-Batman? Blackman?
The streets always make room for two or three figures alone in struggle, as in a forest, unheard. The stoops lean away from the street, the distance between row houses widens to a mute canyon. Our lone figure above flies on needing a drink more than anything, and the woman's beating of the boy continues.

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