From Arsenal 4:
“In a well-known game children are invited to examine a picture and find elements in it that are somehow “wrong”: A person standing in midair; a dog reading a book, etc. In this surrealist version of the game, each player identifies the “wrong”, or anomalous elements in a ordinary, mass-circulation picture.”

The church is still standing, and the preacher is not running for his life….

The gazebo is running errands – the mountains have become flesh – ocean is now only petrol – the sewage all gathers in the center of town – road system rapidly transforming into labyrinth complete with Minotaur – too many bourgeoisie

There is no one riding a skateboard anywhere. The houses are cardboard fold outs from a pop-up book. There’s a giant needle in the lower right of the picture just waiting for someone to fall out of the sky and land on it. The mountains in the distance have not stood up to stretch. No one has noticed Cthulhu sneaking up in the bay.

Alarm clocks are going off at the bottom of the lake and this is causing the oxygen to fall apart

The sky is masquerading as a lake, the houses are about come loose, the broccoli is far too large and clearly overcooked, the rivers of flesh seem petrified, and the 2030 swim champion is nowhere to be found.

A minimalist took over the park in the lower left, gutting all the flowers in a slick rupture with the Country Club master gardener. Chaos ensues in a battle between cul-de-sacs, roundabouts, labyrinths and a series of thorny dead ends.

That archipelago is artificially laid out in the shape of a swastika, the Sun isn’t giving off a wholesome light, the people are eating too much uncircumcised casserole, the background music is grainy, and the whole idyll is entirely set-up to impress a touring dictator.

Just given the overall perspective of the place, the near isn’t far enough and the far isn’t near enough.

The whales in the background are frozen into mountains.

The Nothingness has spread all over the buildings like lava, a traveling salesman died by drowning in a roof, a giant lung is lurking behind the onionskin paper, the gardens are subject to sexual discomfort.

The labyrinth is waiting for the zebras.

This picture contains significant peacock apologies, the spirulina is clearly planning a rebellion, and the lunar binge is a month early.

In surrealism, everything is correct, so I can‘t see anything wrong.


Issue 3 Table of Contents