Here We Go

Duchamp meets Wharhol

Duchamp meets Wharhol

Private places stolen

Intimacy displayed

Stacked like Campbel’s soup

Cold porcelin releif

Smooth, smelly, and cool

Mini monuments to filth

Inventoried privacy

I didn’t much like this poem when I ahd it opn my website, but I’m beginingto feel it. It is ripening in some special way. The last image “inventoried privacy” speaks to my sense of post-modern ennui.  Now it lacks certain formal aspects that I really like, but it is here, and it has strong images and cool ideas.  The  penultimate line, “Mini monuments to filth,” reminds me of a series of photos I swiped off the internet from Argentina.

Argentine Monument

Of course the Irony is Irony.  In Argentina they are willing to look a phallic architecture for what it is.  We here in the Puritan North can’t admit that we like things because the re-inscribe our preference for male genitalia.  We spend all of our time hiding from our naked desires, mutatiing them into base perversions according to individual psychic maladies.  (I do have to say that Europe is catching up with the US in the psycho-sexual deviant nut cases lately [Penis eating cannibal in Germany, Pederasts all over the place, dungeons being sold at Ikea].)

Here is the collision between Marcel Duchamp and Andy(-boy) Wharhol(a) as seen by me in various intimate moments. I don’t know why I started taking photos of urinals and toilets, but once I had them I put them together. Actually, I do know why I started collecting smelly porcelain. I noticed when I moved back to NY from California that most of the grand old urinals that I remembered from my youth, shoulder high in grade school and no less monumental in the grand old buildings of New York like the Chrysler Bldg, the Empire State bldg and PS150Q. Now there are these inconsequential little home depot pissoires that fall off the walls when drunks fall into them at bars.

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