Missing Stan Brakhage

I've been missing Mr. Brakhage of late as I struggle with the purpose of my art in this world....

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some of my work, recap

Here is another look at my work, as with time one tends to forget. I'm in the process of updating, cutting some, and I have ALOT of new stuff to stick on, so any suggestions welcome!

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man in the elevator

The tall man with the thick head of grey, curly hair stands silent and still in the elevator. He has on a brown overcoat, unbuttoned and without a belt. His black, freshly polished left shoe is untied. He looks but does nothing. In his left hand he holds a brown paper bag. The bag holds groceries. A loaf of whole grain, vitamin enriched bread in a clear plastic bag with white writing on a purple background is visible at the top.

The tall man sighs, and shifts the brown paper bag to his right hand, and with his left index finger presses the button for the 4th floor, three times in succession, then sighs again.

The elevator door closes, and begins to move. P1. L. 1. 2. 3. The elevator stops with a lurch, and the lights flicker on and off, then on again. He briefly puts his left hand on the bronze mirrored wall to steady himself. The gold band on his ring finger clicks loudly on the glass.

The man pushes the button marked "alarm" with his left index finger. It fails to light up. He pushes first the L button, then each successive button until all have been pushed. He shifts the brown bag to his left hand and opens the gold colored panel beneath the rows of buttons. He grabs the black phone inside and puts it to his right ear. The ear has a small hole where an earring would be. A man's basso voice comes through the phone.

"Yeah, security."

The tall man clears his throat and says, "Uh, I'm in the uh, elevator. It's stuck."

The tall man puts the bag down and presses the 4th floor button with his left hand. The lights flicker, and the elevator resumes moving up, quickly coming to a stop. The doors open onto the fourth floor.

"Never mind.'

The tall man hangs up the phone and closes the small door. He stands up, looks at himself in the mirror, picks up the bag with his left hand and leaves.

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reaching for the sun

With my left hand I grasp for the space left behind by the Sun.

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