the stain was never so much erased as it was contextualized.
August 29, 2012 § Leave a comment
The water stain was not particularly large, but had for just over ten months now resisted the church’s attempts, amateur and professional, at its removal. After buckets of sudsy mixtures, some made from scratch and others bought by impulse, and at least three new layers of paint, none of them identical in color, though all were identified by their buyers without obvious irony as “flesh colored,” the stain was never so much erased as it was contextualized. Every attempt to erase it from view managed only to express it differently. To R., who paid it more attention than most, the stain at some point had taken on the quality of a cubist painting. Unlike the blue guitars and naked girls of the Montmarte geometry,though, all of which remained in their way representational, multiple perspectives of an object clown-car’d into a single depiction, the water stain corresponded only to itself. The infinite variety that attends to one person’s point of view of any one thing, let alone those of a dozen or twenty-one, the capacity always to see things differently, two tits become twelve or twenty on a single canvas, R. recalled seeing when he was last in St. Louis, is perhaps not so great an accomplishment when the damn things themselves already carry inside so much difference.