A charlatan with a jaded carpenter’s bent legged stroll cannot be mistaken for the hopeful dreams of the animals around it. It is just the materialized conjunction of things and items and actions that cannot quite find a way to connect with the ground upon which it is seen. Always above what was there and then so high the picture is below every moral aptitude ascribed to it. And she enters the frame in a way that makes believe in a purpose, but it is misguided. A Ruse to create the sensation of objectivity. It is a feeling we are passionate about although unwilling to actually make happen. The eye, still, is drawn to the stumble of the initial activity. Distracted and unkempt, it demands a Chinese proverb and a critic’s plastered sexual innuendo: a plastic jumble in the forest.
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