Any normal person is scared when they see a knife. Even if they aren’t directly threatened by it, they know to be mindful of its presence. Sometimes when you’re alone with a knife you might think “well I have the power over this knife because I can just put it in the drawer”. Which is true. But when you hold the knife, it is you who changes, your hand conforms to it. And when you put it in the drawer, who is to say that it isn’t the one that instructs the flipper to flip up into the top part of the drawer, so that you can’t open it. And then you spend the next 15-20 minutes wrestling and negotiating with a section of your kitchen.
I respect hoarders because they seem to have a real sense of the spiritual energy of objects. I'd like to meet a knife hoarder and find out why they do it. I'd also of course be terrified to meet this person and go to their house, because they are most likely "knife happy" and that can't be good.
I had the knife the whole time. It was just an everyday part of my life. And then like moonstruck, I realized it was my muse.
I was listening to Madonna's Immaculate collection when I made this. She was really at her finest then. I was so fortunate as a kid that I had the CD and I would play it over and over and just make up my own dance moves and be really theatrical about it. On her Truth or Dare tour, when the cops tried to put the kibosh on parts of her act, she refused to compromise and described her work as "catharsis". George Michael's song "Father" is also a favourite of mine. As is Bruce Springsteen's "I'm on Fire", where he asks "if you're daddy is home".
I took the one less travelled by,
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
I'm On Fire is one of the best songs ever composed. I love it and it makes me cry.
This piece speaks to perceptions of the self as they relate to time. As the knife, or the shifting polyvalence of what a knife symbolizes, cuts into the circle of plaster (alluding to mythologies of man being made from clay and man's gradual progression from the natural to the synthetic) a paradox of time is revealed, as what the knife cuts into, is also what holds it.
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