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Graham Lindsayonline works |
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Big heart We are gathered in a studio, hands on knees in plaid suits and wide ties, blond flattop hair. Like door-to-door religious salespeople seriously discussing whether there is another with whom we can communicate or, if we can only get through to ourselves that this then is eternal loneliness. Exposed brick ascends to a loft with piano and music sheets, bales of hay. Someone delivers drinks on a tray as firelight overtakes daylight — like an advertisement for alcohol or tobacco. The world exists prior to our perception of it croons the boss into a microphone before the threshold of feeling. This is the realm of pure fiction. We have to let things look at us in order to see, then see our seeing. We define ourselves in others' eyes herein is hearsay characterised. We have to find in the other's eyes selflove and gratitude
© Graham Lindsay |
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