It’s been 80˚F, sunny with clear skies. Over the weekend I was upstate, laying out on a lawn reading Visions of Excess by Georges Bataille. I forgot sunblock and my skin burned pink like the book cover. Ironic that I was reading a short essay titled The Solar Anus. This is the opening paragraph:
“It is clear that the world is purely parodic, in other words, that each thing seen is the parody of another, or is the same thing in a deceptive form.
Ever since sentences started to circulate in brains devoted to reflection, an effort at total identification has been made, because with the aid of a copula each sentence ties one thing to another; all things would be visibly connected if one could discover at a single glance and in its totality the tracings of an Ariadne’s thread leading thought into its own labyrinth.
But the copula of terms is no less irritating than the copulation of bodies. And when I scream I AM THE SUN an integral erection results, because the verb to be is the vehicle of amorous frenzy.” (pg. 5)
Bataille’s description of Ariadne’s thread makes me think about what it means to construct and honestly read a quality image.
When I returned to the city, I ran into a friend, who so kindly reminded me to “Respect that ball of fire in the sky”.
These are a few images with balls of fire I encountered over the weekend.