
The picture above is of an art installation I did at what was once ACME Art Company, Arts District in Columbus Ohio, Short North.
There was running water sounds, babies crying and a soundtrack running with a song.
There was a statement written for all to read:
"Are political and financial power mongers killing the glory of natural progression?Are the pure stories of history getting lost in the techno Commercialism? Are the definitive lines fading between reality and fantasy? Is Luke Skywalker going to save us from Darth Vader?
I have installed traditional icicles and tree ornaments along with candles to keep grounded to the holiday calm. From the ceiling I give you a view of massive egg destruction and surround you with progressive architecture to pool you into the new dimension, while you hear the singing of an old religious song with new lyrics, while hearing a plea to Santa Claus. In the background you will hear the sound of irregular drops of tears from the icicles. I want you to be afraid for our children. I want you to be afraid for our future and protect the beauty of what is now Christmas, for life.
Perhaps we should ground ourselves in some sort of tradition, in order to grasp our future vision.
Perhaps we should grok the magic of the force and become more than we think we can.
(To the tune of Hark the Herald)
Hark the Herald angels scream as we scruff the newborn's dream
Peace on Earth and Mercy mild are all hopes within a child
how we lay our pleasures by, then to the icicles make our cry
with angelic hearts we sing, glory to the elected King,
Hark the Herald angels scream, glory to the elected King!
(In the background, the Princess from Star Wars plea)
Santa Claus, Santa Claus, you're my only hope!
Santa Claus, Santa Claus, you're my only hope!
Other words on the page:
Poem: "Breakfast Room"
Pull out the crystal that in the morning we used,
The soft cloth napkins that wiped away our blues.
Lay out the silver that moved with our tunes,
as we laughed together in the warm breakfast room.
Funny how life just won't let you get by,
with romance and candles, nor tears in your eyes.
While in the distance you hear a faint cry,
as you walk off to leave without saying good-bye.
So put away the crystal that in the morning we used,
Wash the cloth napkins and dry away your blues.
Put away the silver that we once used,
and forget that we laughed in the warm breakfast room.
Poem: Planets Inhale
Planets inhale the chains of life,
the chains of life planet inhale.....
I float within passions chains,
I breathe the passion,
passion's rhythms,
Planets passionate rhythm
Planet's passion
Planets inhale the chains of life....
...... inspired by poetry slams and coffee house performances.