06 March 2008
Electric Suturist Park
While you would like to stroll through this park, green next to the beach, and speak f about the young girl trailing the kite, her father’s indifference, her mother’s worry. The plot of their lives. You would show your compassion, your effortless coherence of plot, your comfortable turns of phrase. You’re hardbound.
The Electric Suturist sinks under the ground, travels through the valley of a grass blade, rushes past the pink-trimmed seven year old, climbs up the wind-fluid twist of wire, and sways down to the world from the kite. The Electric Suturist texturizes things. The Electric Suturist feels and makes you feel the salt-wood Seagrove Park sign, the sea bordering rope on the piling highlighted as human hair. Her hair. His hair. Mermaid hair? The endlessness of metaphor.
At any given moment there is enough in the park: people, color, and movement to sustain the Electric Suturist for the duration of his writing life. Total sensory immersion will save the day indefinitely. Any back-story can be indicated in the huff (or is it the thrash?) of waves, the whistle (or caress) or wind. Is that cloud the shape of divorce or a Richter portrait? Is today’s embrace (or punishment) from the sun wholly new or an empty repetition of hours? The Electric Suturist presents you with the hypnotist twitch of the kite string over and over, as yarn or garrote.
Why ever leave this park (this park that is the same as your house, the pod of your car or any place that can hold light)? Any place where you (and the Electric Suturists) step is perfectly color-blown by all these things.
Additional park-like thought: Blow-Up bringing into play tight white pants, negatives, Vanessa Redgrave, sex: all very interesting things. But the important is the proto-Electric Suturist photographer changing his life around an obscure image in the bushes. His careless photo of it is blown up over and over in the most important sequence in the film. Unwinding the electric truth from the ever-larger foliage is all that matters.
And on to someone even larger scale. The most important event in Abstract Expressionist Barnett Newman’s career was the discovery of the zip (the thin strip that breaks up his most significant paintings). I have co-opted the zip as a central part of Electric Suturist creation. You take a field in stark color, you add a zip, you have a work of art both ruptured (electrified) and healed (sutured) by a vertical line. The zip is a bolt in two senses: as something that holds the painting down and as something that streaks it, like lightning.