It started with a snapshot of deep-orange-red lilies. Flipping to the negative really set it off. Simultaneously, I have been breaking on the waves of inventory.

Part one: Born in the ’50s and now in mine. I want, not merely to make my thoughts clear to another, but to surrender to him at the same time my whole soul, and to influence his sensuous powers as well as his intellectual. Is growing up still wacky?

I am writing about painting produced in what may be the last decades of a society dominated by the visual sense. I spend most of my day experiencing pictures. Like an underdeveloped country, smell has been ignored.

They talk endlessly of the creativity that comes from love. Over and over the pain hits me, the manic frustrated energy hits me.

I regret not having done it myself. Edible objects are prolific in Surrealist works. I have written from inside the literature of Dada and Surrealism. It is often impossible to classify an object as strictly Dadaist or Surrealist. An orange and an apple walked into my head and took opposing sides in the arena.

Was the intellectual chess player father of the body-mutilation school? I can refine my own writing by examining the effects of sex-exclusive language. Whereas Surrealism evokes the eternal nightmare sleep, Dada is blankness wide awake, the machine eye open.

One image. Eight variations. Wave on.

Quote from Friedrich Schiller’s On the Aesthetic Education of Man, 1794-1795.
Artwork and the rest of the text by Catherine Rutgers © 2012.