Knot Vertical.

Knot Vertical


Inside the tree. Everything was all right. It was more than all right. It was a work of art. Far more than that. The prize went to Fernando. For what he could do with the mask. A blue ribbon on eyes. Over eyes. Face and mouth. Then alighting on the gift. An elastic band. Two stretchy rubber strands that togethor created a face. I liked to wear mine with just one band running down one eye. Asked how. This is how. Now i have the gift. I have taken the gift from Fernanado. Blue its all blue. This changing shape. That can shift its size. For starters the band was made from cotton. Wool. Now the band is elastic. Sat in palm. Now held in two hands. The band becomes. A sculptured mask. Heavier to touch. So it is all blue. I think i say i tell, this can be painted white. White paint. It could. It wont. The line running past the one eye, painted red. Red and white. Instead it goes. The mask onto a stick. This is your prize Fernanado. For creating such a thing.

Inside the tree. The real artwork shines. This is more than art. Inside a tree. You are not vertical. You are horizontal. You can walk as if you are in a giant room. A beuatifull space. Full of light. The ceiling is made from different species. Some with stripes like tigers others with patterns like moths. Or the scales of a fish. Blocks of wood. Over the inter twinging beams. Lights. Blue corridors swirling up and down. Tubes of electric with bubbles running across the wood, in a pattern like one of those games where you must get to the end without setting the buzzer off. Loopy. Underneath. The floor. On it metal. Sculptures. Round instruments. Baubles. Colours. Bowls filled with delight. A leather bed. Not flat. Well flat apart from a pyramid rising out the side. Space to breath. More light sculptures. Sand behind frames spinning. A jamaican man with dread locks lieiing down. Talking softly about his ideas. This world inside of a tree. His calming sculptures. His open space. His music. His sleep, horizontal.