B E R L I N
A novel. A film. Concepts and objects that illustrate the inexplicable phenomena of time. Our desire to be outside of it expressed through the relationships of fathers, sons, violence, love and the unstoppable progression of the human race towards a more true meaning of immortality: the perpetual sensation of existing without a past or a future. Now.
As esoteric as it is, this work is intrinsically about neon. How the medium itself is linked to a fundamental order of the universe and our place in it. When the Solar System settled into its current configuration, Jupiter was responsible for maintaining the presence of neon within our atmosphere. The most abundant element in the Universe and the least available on Earth, neon is the most rare Noble Gas of them all.
Neon is a primordial force. Its discovery yielded a new light that gave rise to a device dependent culture while the technology used to derive it eventually evolved into the particle accelerator; enabling us to probe the origins of our existence at a cosmic level. In some ways, it might contain the secrets of life and death itself.
It rains neon on Jupiter. Broken tubes made us younger.
Dear Bowie --
Sometimes we look outside to see ourselves saying and doing things without ways to escape. Often it's in the tender shadow of intentions that seem to glow even in the darkest dawn.
And why wouldn't you reach out to those you've forsaken? You would. You will. I believe this, but know you didn't learn it from me.
McShane has shown you so much. How to use even your soft and quiet breath to defend the defenseless; shelter the lost or avenge the fallen. Things I never could have. A father where there was none.
Remember that time we climbed the highest peak and found that river. Broke that black feather in two, casting the skinny halves down the rush and made a promise to meet in another world as those two halves may some day.
It took me twenty years to ruin this one. Feels like tomorrow, but then again the only thing to remember in a stadium of lies is that the truth is what you believe.
See you in London. I know.
Dear Bowie --
Some pointless movie when I was growing up saying the world is not enough. It isn't.
I was lucky to be born before it got so fractured. Like a blinding bone that can never be set. Or if, never to return to its true form.
It was that one show twenty years ago. I tried to predict the future. It was a landmark for me and cut a trail so deep that I could never see the gray light of its horizon until the stadium was full of doors to a future beyond my control. Whatever that means.
Or the neon rain escaping that slippery planet's shell filling each tube with new youth and old death all the same. I got a world hooked on gas and gave them the keys to dissolve as it filled their lungs with pink smoke.
I still see you walking in that gravel lot stroking each weed with a slow, silver hand.
They say oldest/youngest is coming for my head.
B E R L I N is currently available as a limited edition 20 page book from Length Width Height.