The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


To get into The Accidental Artist catastrophe site, it's best to fly in.
At one point years ago, it was possible to access the ground floor by
taking the front stairs; after these began their slow precession, it
seemed possible at times to wait, then climb when they were properly
positioned. Now, everything's different; the stairs are treacherous and
you might find yourself beneath the ground, drowning without a clue,
shapes falling, rotating, and shuddering around you, choke choke. Best as
I said to fly in. At another point months ago, that was easier to do,
flying ahead across the threshold, entering the space, it's 'turned to
stone' perhaps or deconstructed, or less treacherous, you could always be
assured of air. At yet another point weeks ago, better to fly above, how
high is that, above the space, the walls, the particles, the objects, the
translucencies, the part-objects, fly above I say, then descend, slowly
and carefully and to be sure unlosing oneself or winning oneself back,
unfacing oneself, descend certainly and unsurely, through an artificial
air that sounds like you're there, somewhere to be sure, the air is cold,
warm yourself, the air is cold. Then to the colder light and buffeting,
you might, you will, lose your footing, and I, myself, I can no longer
edit objects which escape, love to disappear, were told to disappear,
we're happy, we're not threatened, we're really happy, so much light and
color! so much sound. I make myself lose myself, Julu said, and I lose you
too. script jpgs: Julu Twine automatically writing
the sky; planar elements closing in on themselves (from above)

To access the Odyssey exhibition The Accidental Artist (please visit!) -

Generated by Mnemosyne 0.12.