“The shape of the square confronts the silhouette of the amoeba.”- Alfred H. Barr
Spittle mounts a curl upon a lip, promoting “as if,” what amounts to a tug from gravity. A lip representing bevel inclines, splicing gestures for repeat, on repeat, with hand in pocket and raspberries co-opted via tongue thrumming.
A word repeated until its cadence sounds unrecognizable. Conversation deemed a fragile symposium, tone deaf pronunciations and devalued syntax.
Warhol screen-prints are repeated words. Money is a repeated word.
Grocery stores stock their shelves, fine art displayed, and correct the aesthetics presented in language.
Placards fastened to the museum’s wall, stationed next to Tomato Soup, describe the cost of language.
An orator drinks a cup of Campbell’s Tomato Soup, soothing her aching gullet, before delivering a speech on what topics are considered public domain.
Ducks float in murky water. Bread crumbs, gifted from a child, take in the moisture and the fowl receive it as if they were Jesus quenching his thirst from a sponge. Two ducks spar over a morsel of bread. Feathers are plucked, webbed feet are nipped as beaks disappear, underneath the water. Ripples made off their skirmish disrupt the current, these ripples are Warhol masterpieces.