wama

22.11.06

A man with a brief case and a pointy head walks forward with his feet facing backwards -- two steps back, one step forward. Not going anywhere fast. He’s dancing with a cactus and his long nose nudges her into the waltz, he cannot hide his tail which blossoms flatulence. Stuck on his treadmill, he wallows in the fragrance. The cactus tries her best to flee the scene.

At the base lies a scorpion. She holds up a mountain of flames that spark a pear-shaped flame person. This flame person stands on two legs but has more arms beetle-like and serious as she offers up a horse-head shaped flare thick to kiss the steam and smoke that billows like a ghost or a blobby plume balloon heavy against gravity. Like speaking to the oracle quizzical or the genie in the bottle at the mountain-top we watch and wait the flame-woman’s arms extended.


This mountain becomes the haunches of an antelope resting calm. His back to all this begging and standing still, he contemplates the horizon tilted but inviting. His profile is regal. Several figures hide away in his horns. Two koras or maids balance, backs arched. One standing on tiptoe head high supporting the weight of the second kneeling, knees held buoyant by the first’s forehead. They face a worried queen, enthroned. The queen sits eye to eye with the first lady in waiting, and hands her the key. Their fingertips graze one another and the both look down instead of catching each others’ gaze.

This all happens in a secluded cave pillared and protected from the world outside.

posted by la kara @ 16:01