“Rinsed with mercury / Throughout to this bespattered / Fruit of reflection, rife / With… distortion / (Each other, clouds and trees). What made a mirror flout its flat convention? / Surfacing as a solid… / And what was the sensation / When stars alone like bees / Crawled numbly over it?...” White C
Source · whitecube.com/gallery-exhibitions/everyones-gone-to-the-movies-now-were-alone-at-lastNo artworks yet
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