Small Axe Books

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Untitled Charcoal on paper 2005

I was walking back from some where, when I still lived in Philadelphia. A strip of South st, several blocks away from the flashy tourist attractions that reminded me of the boardwalks of my home land, further up near Broad St. A woman on a front stoop asked me for a cigarette, I had recently shaved my head for the first time and she complemented the hair cut. She walked off and I paused looking at a construction site across the street. An old man and a young man, who were dressed in street clothes where digging a hole and an oddly shaped parcel sat near an old love seat that had been brought to the curb with other trash. It struck me as odd, I think there was a class that needed attending. I walked off.

<center>Had I just seen two people buring a dead body under the future site of a new condo?<center/>

Maybe I made it up, maybe those guys weren’t even there.

But I was really convinced I saw a dead body sitting in the trash and I was obsessed with Di Chirico.

Untitled Charcoal on paper 2005

I watched Micheal Snow’s “Wavelenghth.” The movie was about a film camera’s zoom, accompinied with the visual of the zoom was an increase in the frequency of sound. As Snow pushes the camera to its limits the sound pushed my ears to their limit, it became to intense and I left the room. But the starting image of the studio apartment being pushed into a single flat wall was stuck in my head. I needed to let it excape.