Friday, December 25, 2009

Christmas Card from Mingus the Whippet

We asked Mingus to pose for a christmas photo for us, and this is what he (after much cogitation, many treats, and hours of angsty whining) created:



The title provided by Mingus is: “chocolate cherry dog danish with festive garnish”

It is an exceedingly complicated exercise to unweave all of the symbolism and contextual implacability coherent and inherent in his vision, but we will attempt nonetheless.

This title, though humble in its intent, only belies the seriousness and depth of contextuality of the metaphors contained therein. The image looks quite tasty, if one fancies whippet pastries, yet also contains an element of danger and foreboding, as if perhaps (against all odds, by miracular intervention) the canine has survived the baking process by freeing his nasal implement. The quantum state he has achieved with this vision creates a definite tension between the polarized options of a dozing animal, and one that has been baked alive into a consumable delicacy. The image gives us no clue to discern the truth, and the lingering quease and unease and modernist questions posed by this “Schroedinger’s dog” cannot be avoided.

The stubbornness illustrated by the animal in either of his quantum states is clearly demarcated by the slight glisten of moisture on the ebony tip of his nose. He seems to be saying, “Witness the indomitable canine spirit!” at the same time he is murmuring, “Leave me alone, for I am currently napping, chasing small (but spritely) bunnies in my dreams.” The bright red, santa-esque swaddlescent coverering, while both suggestive of canned cherries in glaze and of the spilt blood of our Saviour, only contributes to our confusion between dining and divinity. It is an easy conclusion that Mingus means to draw strong parallels between his quantum identities and the birth, death, and eventual rise of Jesus Christ. While this strong symbology could easily be dismissed as pandering and in poor taste, he takes advantage of his humble stature as a faithful quadrupedal servant to man to deftly sidestep any such criticisms.

The silver snowflake ornament on the center of the blanket/filling is also subject to similar parallelisms. While, upon first glance, one simply sees it as a quaint holiday adornment, it becomes clear (once we have delved fully into the Schroedinger’s Christ morphologies and associated zeitgeist) that it also stands as a beacon with versimilitude to the North Star that allegedly led the wise men to the cradle of the baby Jesus. I think at this point it is most likely unnecessary to even mention the dyslexic “god-dog” connection, but it simply cannot be ignored as part of the cross-species-cultural elements of the piece.

In summation, if we were to amalgamate the vast potpourri of imagery and meaning contained in this image, Mingus seems to be saying, “Come witness the gentle rise and fall of the cherry filling as it moves with my humble ribs. See how the universe expands and contracts and yet your dog remains in one singular location.”

Indeed, Mr. Mingus, indeed, the universe has expanded again this year, and contracted and we are still here, pondering what it all means, why animals are so inscrutable, and what we should eat next.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year from Charlie, Melissa, and the artist formerly (and presently) known as Mingus.

p.s. We have settled nicely into our new house, Melissa is kicking ass and taking names at her new job, Charlie is still figuring out what he wants to be when he grows up, and Melissa is being beautifully patient while he works on that.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

isla mujeres

   
if you were to look
from the front of the upper deck
of the ferry from isla mujeres
to puerto cancun
today at 12:30pm

you would have seen us
over the left shoulder
of the guitar player
fumbling with a 9 volt battery
as he tried to tune his strings

you would have seen my wife
in her movie star sunglasses
and her hair slicked back
lean her head onto my right shoulder
and mine lean over
to touch the top of her head

if you looked closely
just to the side of my left
fire iridium sunglass lens
you would have seen the tear
released from the corner of my eye

and you might wonder
was that tear all that was left over
when our reality
was subtracted from my expectations

or was it simply
the mucous surface of my eye
irritated by the salt in the air
and the speed at which the boat
was traveling.


Tuesday, October 20, 2009

natural selection


as we were looking
for something to watch on the tv
to calm your nervous stomach
to help us forget your lost breakfast
i saw a peacock display his ornamental feathers
and learned that mice sing songs
that humans cannot hear
in order to attract a mate

walking out to the pool an hour later
a twentysomething guy
with a tribal tattoo on his shoulder
dropped to the pool deck
and rattled off twenty pushups
with excellent form

he stood back up
his wife took off her shirt
and they walked out onto a small bridge
over the lagoon
in their bathing suits
so their friend could take their picture

how magnificent his arms looked
and how chiseled his pectorals
in his perfectly tanned skin

we couldn't help but look
at all those iridescent tail feathers
and listen carefully
to his ultrasonic little song.





Monday, January 26, 2009

where it all goes

this durk marky green algaeic sadness
we keep realizing we are swimming in
and somehow we stuff it away somewhere
like we have vistors coming for dinner
and we pile it all up in a closet
knowing if anyone opened the door
we would all be flooded
drowning and struggling to reach a door handle
or window to open up
and let it all flow out into the yard
where the neighbors could all see us
flopping around gasping for air

how do we find so much space for it
and where do we put it?
is it all going into one of those fancy garbage bags
the force flex kind that catches a piano
falling from a building in the tv ad
and the bag just keeps getting bigger
and we just keep stuffing away
catching more and more pianos
always knowing it all has to come out someday

if we can just get to the point
where we feel good enough
and close enough
and undistracted enough
that my teeth can gently find the skin of your neck
and my fingers can sink into your tangle of curly hair
and you can melt into my arms
and you can twist your wiry legs around me
and you can scare the dog off into the other room
with those perfect little sounds you make
and 11 minutes later
everything we have shoved back inside
everything we have pushed down over the last few months
every promise we made to ourselves
to set some time aside to break down some time when we were alone
it can all come back out in the end
filtered so perfectly through both of our eyes