Somewhat creepy are a few of the collages I had just finished in the week before Hurricane Harvey in their quasi-precognitive depictions of surreal waterlogged narratives.
Not to suggest that any of them are anything more than a continuation of the content and form on my primary Instagram that just happened to incorporate unsplashed backgrounds depicting large to medium sized bodies of water, and considering that the earth’s surface is nearly 80% water there should be nothing worth noticing as driving a paradigmatic relationship beyond that.
However, when the particular image that bears a similar title to that found in the heading text is placed as a focus in relation to the hurricane and it is understood that it was completed without any knowledge of a tropic storm or storm of any kind anywhere nearly a week prior to Harvey’s landfall, its content lends itself to a dynamic which suggested that pre-cognition of TheDonald’s first (and hopefully last) natural disaster response as POTUS. There was no clear message or intent involved with the collage as it was constructed like all of the others, relying heavily on the forms themselves to complete the composition. There is often very little to go by in terms of drawing meaning with pure syntagmatic relationships fighting to construct significant meaning out of very thin structural relationships created by simple repetitive motifs (if the Japanese artist Korin had copy/paste or duplicate capabilities, those Irises would have been on rice paper partitions across the world).
So at best a coincidence that we will say is a coincidence until I reveal all of the other pre-cognitive visual and didactic events that have been happening in my crusty world over the past few years. It could be that the autoimmune condition that struck without warning was so traumatic that it knocked an extra sensory location of the human brain loose – freeing up axons and neurons to connect to events in the future as other neurons and the mylan that protects those peripheral neural pathways were destroyed by my own macrophages. It would be nice to think so considering that the experience of feeling your white blood cells consume your nerve endings like millions upon millions of electro-microscopic hammerhead sharks gnawing into white-hot electric fire that is your feet and toes as they twitch and arch in slow agony by themselves, but probably not. It’s all probably something more related to the Pfizer brand squid that is thrown back to the ocean and reclaims its deep trench single squid family home from the in laws that forced him out when they got frustrated because he got sick with an auto-cephalopodic tentacle twitch.
Yea that’s what really happened.