Komunyakaa again:
The Falling Down SongHere I amwith one foot on a floating platformbreaking myself into small defeats--I'm the ghost of a money-changer& halo of flies, half-moon of false teethunable to bite bread. Pleasego & tell no one you've seen me under the cypress,a fool-hearted footstool,termites in my twosad woodenlegs,sawdust in my black leather shoes.
Based on my affection for Mircea Suciu's work, Breakerbaker was nice enough to recommend Vincent Desiderio's work. As with a lot of stuff I'm into these days, I really lack the vocabulary to tell you why I like it. Part of it is not knowing much about art, and the other part is simply not seeing enough. What I can say about this piece, Suciu's "The Funeral" is what I've said about comic books, and hip-hop before--I enjoy the unknown, the spaces and caverns left for my imagination to do its own exploring.
Much of what I see these days is just so terribly explicit. Every romantic comedy wears itself on its title (The Proposal, The Back-up Plan, and so forth.) as though we simply want to see beautiful people filling out roles the contours of which we've already been assured of. I'm not picking on rom-coms here, it's just a favorite genre of mine, and so I notice it.
But I look at this and I'm moved by the inability to see the father's eyes, his attire (corporate downsizing?) by the potential meaning in his girth (heart attack?) I really have no idea. And it's sort of beautiful to have no idea.
Anyway, this is a total amateur--a professional amateur. at that--thinking out loud. Anyone who knows more about art, or about Desiderio is welcome to chime in. Evidently, I can catch him at the Met.
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