Pitiful and Pathetic Join Kama Kama Corner
Rudely rotating knobs (remnants of an old neck massager) project from two holes in Pathetic’s polka dot black wall. Like the architecture of rural Mexico it is difficult to know if these two are ruins or works in progress. Pitiful’s barely open door reveals two spotlighted crocheted doilies mimicking the form of white snowflake forms on the floor outside. The electricity is still on. Yes, there must be life - but things seem to be slowly falling apart. With both the absurd humor and the tragedy of a silent film, we laugh at someone else’s fragile attachment to the physical and emotional status quo. Some of us keep our equilibrium better than others when looking down the abyss.
Kama Kama Corner
In 1993, always in search of lost notes and found images, I spotted an odd little envelop in a Katmandu shop. It was full of hand-drawn Kama Sutra woodcut prints. No sign of the artist’s identity.
The same couple, in the same room, repeatedly attempts dozens of impossible positions. The simple line drawings are naïve and awkward. The couple is jaunty, almost slap stick.
The entire operation seems doomed to an endless spinning in search of the sublime.
Something a kin to my own take on the human condition, this is my shrine to an unknown artist and all that is unknowable.
The cast glass, Japanese Mikasa frames- usually given as wedding presents - reference the kitsch factor in marketing the sublime in American culture. They attempt to represent a shiny, decorative and priceless, yet fragile, beauty. I especially like those that look like hair swept up into a bow. I search them out on Ebay - where most wedding presents end up eventually.