As I was listening to Nadia McCaffrey on Democracy Now! this morning, they flashed a copy of this picture of her son, Patrick, returning from Iraq. You might remember Mrs. McCaffrey. She's the parent who defied president Bush's directive that caskets containing the bodies of our soldiers killed in Iraq NOT be photographed returning home. Thankfully, Nadia McCaffrey was not about to let her son, who had made the ultimate sacrifice in service to his country, "come home in darkness". I was so very proud of her for honoring her son by inviting the press to photograph Patrick's return. But as a former art student and admirer of the paintings of Edward Hopper which seem to often convey a bleak loneliness, I was very struck by this photograph. As with many of Hopper's subjects, there's a quiet desperation lurking just beneath their veneers. At least, that's what this photo reminded me of--something Hopper would have done.
And so, imagining Edward Hopper alive and still painting just one Universe over from our own, I saw this photo as a Hopper canvas. And then I tried to think of a title for it. Maybe something like, "Cruising Main Street, Twenty-first Century Style."
7 comments:
Thank you for posting this. More people need to see these funerals. The cynic in me might name it "Halliburton Waste Product" -- D.K.
That picture made me sad. I hope I never know someone who has laid down their lives and come back proud of what they have participated in. It's hard to express in text, but I'm totally fucking pissed about everything that the Bush clowns are pulling. Some people (coughcongresscough) are making a lot of dirty money in a lot of bad ways. They are the coorprate pimps of contemporary society. I love that that word has the word "temporary" in it, which means we won't continue suffering forever.
Dada, do you ever wonder if they'll find you, break down your door, torture your wife, and behead you for this blog? I mean, when the "new world order" is in place, you may be in very deep, hot water.
Well, I'll leave you with those morbid musings and wish you all a wonderful night's rest.
P.S. I really don't know whose brains those are. A homeless guy handing out bibles in front of the LDS church sold it to me for ten bucks. I thought it was a real bargain, and it came with its own phermaldahyde stuff too, so I didn't have to run out and buy some.
Oh, by the way, I printed out your "How to become a republican" post and it is currently hanging on my bedroom wall, so that if anyone who is not radically left-wing ever comes into my bedroom, they'll see the very thing they've been searching for.
DK: I KNOW for SURE that I wrote a response to your "Halliburton Waste Product" last eve. Then, sometime later, I must have shut the computer down before posting it.
This happened, I'm sure, because I was so appalled at your title for this work. That's because it removes all traces of humanity so succinctly. But that's exactly the process we're witnessing, isn't it?
Thanks for the 'incitefulness' (yes, misspelling intended).
Dear "Brain in a Jar":
You are so funny. I'd swear if you didn't overlap with Hunter Thompson, you might just be him reincarnate.
But I love your brain and am especially thankful it came with its own formaldehyde because, as we all know (right nina?) there's nothing worse than the stench of rotting brains. (One of the reasons I've never desired to visit Washington DC).
But you have a "beautiful mind" there, nina. Just be sure you keep an eye on it, so you don't lose it.
And remember, there are always those lurking, who will want to pick your brain. (Sometimes they are even so bold as to tell you, "I'd like to pick your brain." BEWARE!)
Nina asked:"Dada, do you ever wonder if they'll find you, break down your door, torture your wife, and behead you for this blog? I mean, when the "new world order" is in place, you may be in very deep, hot water."
Ahm, "No." You mean I could get in trouble for this? Oh hell, now you're really scaring me. Oh well, I suppose you could be right.
But I realized a long time ago, they can only kill you ONE TIME. That's it. Once you've given that up to 'em, they can't hurt you anymore.
Of course, I only more recently learned from our president Bush, it's the way they can kill you that hurts. It can take years of unbearable pain and misery. And that pains me a lot. So thanks for the new awareness of my possible future, nina.
But having said that, one more observation. You know, it's about you being "totally fucking pissed"..
Being so wonderfully aware as you are, nina, I'm concerned you may be around for a long, long time and it is your curse, I suppose, to "care." You may have a very long row to hoe.
See, I'm almost finished with mine. (Per your enlightenment of moi, here, Bush will see to that, right?)
But you may have another 60-70 to go. Maybe best to chill--if for nothing more than your mental health. Maybe put on some blinders and blend in with the herd. (Hey! Now I know what we can get you for your birthday!)
Oh, and, you suppose if you snuck in that jar and broke of just a bit off your brain, you'd have something concrete you could hold in your hand? Something all of us here are seeking? A little piece of mind!
nina (warning, opposite viewpoint): it may be impossible to "blend with the herd". See Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The pod-people eventually expose even the most skillful cameleons.
I'm glad to notice you left a little room in your brain jar for expansion. You may be forced to keep bits & pieces of others who have been sent to the rendering camps. Like those ochre-outlined handprints on the caves at Lascaux or Altamira, we need a place to leave thoughtful evidence we were here & did not go gently into that good night.
dada, we have only to look at our own pasts for inspiration on how to avoid future grief. remember how many friends escaped to Canada, Denmark, Amsterdam etc & waited for america to return to its senses? oh maybe not today, but as dylan says "it's not dark yet, but it's getting there." --D.K.
Thanks guys.
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