on the eve of the end . . .

lately it's been absolutely wretched here in philly. the ceaseless rain drenches everything & nothing can warm me. i sleep on the bed sideways and read books about the surrealists & the occult.

the thunder reminds me of when i was a child and thought it meant the end of the world, of the sky literally being ripped open. i also thought it meant a time for monsters, their time to sneak out of wherever they were hiding to wreck evil . . . .

these imaginings haven't faded as much as i'd like them to..... & yet somewhere in all this supernatural worrying, the world is caught up with worry for the end of the world, again. when i was in grad school i was absolutely obsessed with apocalyptic fiction. but lately i see that it all ends the same somehow, with the sky ravaged, people dirty and eating each other & no god in sight. what if the end of the world truly meant the end of the world ? a black blindness, a white light ?

these colored pencil drawings from italy based marco mazzoni have a hint of apocalyptic wonder, of self annihilation & divine light ..... i wrote a mini review of these stunning works over at hi-fructose.

xo