Weekend Primitives

After little sign of the Primitive all week, a tin foil chalice appears. Simple, catching the sunlight, it also has alchemical intensity of emblem and archetype. This is clearly the work of our Primitive. However, it seems that some weekend primitives have taken over the space. Their address is more confrontational, humorless, almost a challenge. I might be a little paranoid, but I am seeing little aggressive jabs at my attempts to track the Primitive, like plastic bags of dog poop on rock pedestals. Or attempts to compete for attention, as in a graffito on a picnic table "escape your prison": a bit of vulgar gnosticism. Just as the art eye is expanded by reflecting on the Primitive's intervention, so the critical eye now finds criticism everywhere now that the blog has been up for a week. I'm finding comment boxes in the branches, feedback on the top of overflowing trashcans. I cross paths with an androgynous skinny kid taking distressed Polaroids and leaving them behind. That's the spirit, but this is not our Primitive. I take a shot of one or two of the Polaroids anyway. I am tempted to take pictures of the dog crap, thinking it might serve a future purpose to prove a visual point. Or maybe there is some clue encoded therein. But no. It's just litter. Pick it up, you schmoe.

>>>