Walking in the park she looked through grey-brown trees. Winter. Queens, NY.
The Unisphere made in stainless steel by the United States Steel Corporation and presented to the World’s Fair in 1964. Queens Museum, NY
There was the world fallen down.
The Unisphere as above
You are imagining things, she thought.
She had not been feeling ‘herself’ for a while. Like something big was about to hit. Couldn’t say if it was good or bad.
The Unisphere as above
There was nobody around. She approached the world.
She heard a voice: Hold me, it said.
Androgynous. Quavering. Rippling, whining, metallic as though a theremin was being played.
She looked in the litter bin. Nothing there. Don’t be silly, she thought. Voices don’t come out of litter bins!
The Unisphere as above
What is going on? she asked of nobody in particular. Where am I if you are there and I am on earth here?
The Unisphere as above
Embrace me, the voice said.
More urgently. Much deeper register. Filling up the bole of the structure as if emanating from the deep ground. I am cold.
I am losing it, she thought.
She began running until she reached the front door of a building hard by. A woman was sitting at the front desk.
The world has fallen, she said in a rush.
What is happening? what is going on? she asked. Why is it there? Why is it talking?
Come, sit down, the woman said.
You’ll feel better in a moment, she added, looking down at her Iphone in order to hide an exasperation at having to deal with the public at all.
She sat down. Woozy.
She looked through the front doors of the building.
EXIT EXIT
The Unisphere from the front entrance of the Queens Museum, NY
She looked at the woman.
The woman was clicking through her IPhone: photos of men with biceps. Lots of biceps.
We’re done for, she thought.
She ran out. A couple was kissing. Another taking photos. A truck was loitering as if this was a Wild Western.
The Unisphere as above
She climbed over the edge of the world’s enclosure. She started climbing the world.
I embrace thee, she whispered. I love thee.
She looked down.
Photo of a piece of the Panorama of the City of New York built by more than 100 people working for Raymond Lester and Associates for the 1964 World’s Fair at the behest of Robert Moses, long-time NY City Planner.
Queens Museum, NY
Queens, Manhattan, Brooklyn began to scroll out under her feet.
Photo of a piece of the Panorama of the City of New York built by more than 100 people working for Raymond Lester and Associates for the 1964 World’s Fair at the behest of Robert Moses, long-time NY City Planner.
Queens Museum, NY
I love you, she said.
You with the ever-tall buildings. You trees. You blue. East River. I love you, she said.
Photo of a piece of the Panorama of the City of New York built by more than 100 people working for Raymond Lester and Associates for the 1964 World’s Fair at the behest of Robert Moses, long-time NY City Planner.
Photo courtesy of the Queens Museum where this panorama is.
She waved to people on a bridge opposite.
By nightfall, she had climbed as high as she could go. Manhattan was in darkness.
Photo of a piece of the Panorama of the City of New York built by more than 100 people working for Raymond Lester and Associates for the 1964 World’s Fair at the behest of Robert Moses, long-time NY City Planner.
Photo courtesy of the Queens Museum where this panorama is.
She turned her body. She did not lose her hold on the world.
The African continent was just coming into the dawn. Huge.
Bartica Born, 1968, acrylic paint on canvas, and detail.
Frank Bowling, British born Guyana, 1934.
Private collection on loan to Brooklyn Museum in 2018/19 for the exhibition, Soul of a Nation, organized by Tate Modern, London
Australia had moved into full daylight.
Travelling with Robert Hughes, 1969-1970, acrylic on canvas.
Frank Bowling, British born Guyana, 1934. The Joyner/Giuffrida Collection on exhibit at the Baltimore Museum in 2019
The Indian subcontinent in multiple images, forming and dissolving, came into view. Dazzling sunlight.
Stills from a video: Disruption as Rapture, 2016.
Shahzia Sikander, Pakistani active United States, born 1969. Philadelphia Art Museum
Thank you for my life, she whispered again and again.
Grace, she thought. Continuing grace, she thought.
The next morning, she looked at her fingers. Her Navaho ring was balanced on her knuckles. She was working on her needlepoint in a west window in winter sun.
The owner of this blog with a Navaho ring and her fingers on a needlepoint of St. George of England, his horse, the dragon he killed. 2019
The Navaho were here, she thought.
Always the same message: the earth is flesh of our flesh…..
Whooooosh! That was one amazing piece, Sarah – shamanic flight in action. Embrace the world, embrace our own self. We surely need to. AND the comment box is working! Weyhey!
Yes! We are in such trouble here, Tish. The Washington noise is so loud and incoherent. The shamans are definitely among us!
Thanks for your comment!
Inspired and inspiring pilgrimage on behalf of us all during this difficult time. But, yes, thanksgiving for Grace still always and ever….Thanks for such reminders. Love, Susannah
Very difficult times! Thanks for reading, Susannah.