Bound by goo
What is it about some days – at times stretching into weeks or more – that feels like goo? Like being stuck? Mired? Attacked by creeping plaque on the synapses?
I guess should be a bit too mature to feel in tune with Kate Bush‘s more youthful lyrics of yearning and frustration, but her 1982 The Dreaming album comes to mind these days, specifically Suspended in Gaffa (although I don’t subscribe to the God angle)…
Suddenly my feet are feet of mud …It all goes slo-mo.
I don’t know why I’m crying …Am I suspended in Gaffa?
(…)
I try to get nearer …But as it gets clearer
There’s something appears in the way
(…)
Am I doing it now? …Can I have it all now?
I want it all (…) …I can’t have it all
.
.
The photo, above, is one of Igor Mitoraj‘s castings of his sculpture, Eros Bound. It’s installed in a Yaletown plaza at Nelson and Mainland. I first approached it from the back, and didn’t immediately make out that it’s a head. On seeing its front, I realized it reminds me of a Salvador Dali painting, but I can’t place it.
Anyway, it’s bound – perfectly expresses how I feel.
Ugh, I hate days like that… Kate Bush brings back lots of memories for me, from my days in Vancouver, and some of those memories evoke that same bound feeling as the sculpture does. Wonderful “illustrations” of the bind that mires.
Comment by maria — May 20, 2010 #