Dylan Ray Arnold
Somewhere near the stomach, covered by the hip and the lungs, is a region formed of hexagons. In winter, a bear may have slept there, now gone without a trace. What remains is the place and some vortices that rise as models of thermodynamic events. On a closer look, you can see some traces, escape lines and dust. Plans and ecstatic sketches: putting everything in order and finally joining in.
In the background, you can hear distant woodwind chords playing from a compact disc recording. Well-rested fruit and common formations come and say hello. They bring hanging fabrics with them – examples. Groups of sprouts rise up the throat through trombones. It´s crowded, and there is an immense blue.
The cells lean against each other, protecting and squashing one another. The rite of spring is watching the screen, waving its limbs extravagantly. It feels something. The stubble is growing. Then the hunger and expectations grow, competitiveness, abdominal muscles and grass. Panicum maximum*
The hollow throb made by carpet beaters vibrates in the air and the inner courtyards. The work is an endless, painful reward. Forced reps adorn the will of the diagrams, extending into the light. There are occasional whisks, noses and rolling in the dirt. Thin surfaces fold into themselves, twisting into bubbles. And soon into foam. You can discern statements and passion in the noise. In the horizon, you can see gymnasts and healthy poses. Don’t worry: the stinging green will eventually pass. Until then, it’s better to stay inside.
*a perennial, tufted grass with sneaking rhizome
Dylan Ray Arnold, 1982, Helsinki
LISÄTILA ( Merimiehenkatu 36 E )
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