Clouds
I am a science fiction geek and the idea of alternate realities especially appeals to me. When my life feels like a triple-decker crapp sandwich or when the world seems just too stupid, evil or annoying to be believed, I like thinking that, maybe, in some other world things aren’t quite so unbearable. Occasionally, I write about these alternate realities.
Here’s a piece about Sarah Palin®:
In an alternate reality, Sarah Palin® is a holographic art piece titled Souvenir: Pandora’s Rogue Box — an ironic gift to the United States from France “in recognition of the exceptionally destructive nature of America’s brand of unbridled capitalism and the exceptionally nihilistic fusion of American imperial power and apocalyptic christianism.”
In a review of the work for ArtofPolitics/PoliticsasWar.com, Margaret Nooner states:
The scathing, new-media hologram titled Souvenir: Pandora’s Rogue Box, rendered in neo-absurdist style by the hipster art collective camuz complaint, features an angry-visaged woman holding, in one hand, a compad twiting:
Give me ur aggrvtd, ur zlus, ur armd. Th rtchd rfudiatd of ur elite horde. Snd thz, th cluls, adl-brnd 2 me, I plow my way thru anothr door!
and in the other hand (written-upon and ever-defiantly thrusting overhead) a continuously-morphing array of props: M4 assault rifle, plate of cookies, tube of lipstick, copy of the political manifesto Tools as Radicals, dead fish, large order of freedom fries, one of her brood, wolf’s foreleg, pair of knitting needles, Bible, pair of Haughty Chunky wedge sandals, document alleged to be the U.S. Constitution, hockey stick, and an amorphous blob labeled “political dinosaur’s last shred of honor torn and tattered.” She stands atop a mound of broken and bloody bodies (political enemies, statues of Veritas and Libertas, various species rendered extinct by rapacious environmental policies, trophy and bounty-hunted animals) and at her feet is anchored an armada (each ship is flying the Jolly Roger and all are filled with cash and booty).
Souvenir resembles the “help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope” communiqué of Star Wars film heroine Princess Leia in its production values and in its limited, frantic, cryptic, and looped verbal message: “so help me, Obama is Kenyan.” In contrast, the voice is shrill and grating, the projection’s hue is red instead of blue, and the femme fatale’s hooded cape is not made of flowing white cloth but of a grizzly hide still in possession of the unfortunate ursa’s head. Additionally, there is no mention of hope… Ultimately, I am left to wonder: what is the point?
Ouch. Even in alternate realities, critics are harsh.
Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1tGZT-k
noodleepoodlee
noodleepoodlee 