The following game text was sent to us by Justin Orlando
Though we may differ in various facets of belief, we are united by a common quest. The liberation of the imagination, the irrational and subconscious sublimated half of us needed to create an absolute/surreal world. It’s under the auspice of this ideal, that I share this quotidian game.
***
In Andre Breton’s MAD LOVE, he speaks of the attraction to found objects, things such as the peasant’s ladle purchased at an antique fair. He goes on about their definite character, an essence not merely assembled by chance, or manifested by the mind of said object’s possessor. And yet, he also discusses how the found object is integrally linked to our desire; desire being what pulls us to them in the first place. A lot can be learned about oneself, even when examining something as mundane as an aloof spoon.
Yet, the found object need not be outside your sphere to be of use. Look around you, at your table, at your clock, at the boiling water on the stovetop. What image comes to your mind; what words strike below the supermundane level? What does said image contribute to your whole, perhaps a hint into your desires, or in the very least a slight bolstering to your imagination’s will. Every flight of fancy indulged is a great gift to the enslaved mind’s soul. With enough slackening of effort, the imagination may finally be free.
With this ease of spirit in mind, I beg you to consider a most ubiquitous object. An adolescent fixation of the arts, recently disinherited by the beauteous skyscrapers that gouge the sun. That of the common plant. Everywhere and subtlety influential, for how formative to our nature must nature be in and of itself? What plant draws your eye? What thoughts rise, when allowed to think beneath the superficial level of “I’m viewing a rhododendron”.
I often find my eyes fixed on a houseplant, early in the morning. Its leaves shake, as it catches a draft from the air vent, just beneath the window. Here are examples of creations that emerged in my mind.
broad leaves:
the two them together form-
the reddened claws of hermit crabs
*
Below the window,
The potted plant stands watch;
The curved iron
of armored legs
lends a soldier’s stance,
And though the blinds are drawn,
The flanged edge of each leaf
shines like a spear.
A yawning draft has brought it to attention.
I hear a clatter as it bares its verdant arms
to salute me.
*
Feel free to share your own impressions, images, ideas, and writing with me at
jorlandowork@gmail.com