don't say it

i have fallen in love with a man, long dead or else very, very old, who writes poems, paints film and makes sculptures which look like they should move. but don't.

"Lo de do Eric, I’m up to where Debil-debil is just going to lick Mr. Bean-in-the-Pod with a blunt three-pronged tongue and cover him with spit and eat him up. That means about another 500 drawings, then first section’s completed. A second a day and why not? It certainly moves and doesn’t get hung up on a wall to make you look. It moves on and off the screen and you aren’t forced to see it if you don’t want to. I’m through with talking about art: after all the fuss and when the art critics have stopped making history there’s nothing left but a few designs by Aus., Af., Am., or Ocean Is. Aboriginals, designs complete in themselves, unattached to history or sentiment; done because they were feeling good and not goofy. They remain what they are, a record of well-being, unspiritual. Don’t say it. The welterweight mass of London still means nothing. About four people know the real chaos and are shining up the word reciprocation; if not the four needn’t do any shining because they’ve got eyes. Apart from all that around here it’s easy when it comes to fun. It’s easy jazz and ha-ha Sundays: give us that kind of not too far away from work, separate from the mournings after, from any kind of fukkups following late among the housetops and drinkups, none of that loose juice for us – the difference of being awake for work, sleeping a break to pull the chain for no headaches and no one needs to be reminded we’ve got the most to get nearer to turning our toes up to prove it. "

"But please don’t and you can’t stop you surreal sight seers. Stop. First to ladies and gents. Stop. You present. Stop. The mind and to hell on art. Go. A revulsion log long overdue. Roll. Though your eye sieves give many an image many a queer romantic facet. Start. That can’t be helped. Go. Far be it from me to slam any mind doors. Push. But where I plumb is to plumb so deep in visual imagery yearns with visual firsts that no company association is necessary except : I suppose : mind visual non-literary nigs from its own root essences. Whoa. Vanilla spitola outa inner into outer visual graphola or plastic or movement or sound strums on the main mind chord making just a tiny clear ping. Dit. A ping a sing a no thing or things disguised for the mind only. Yes. For mind : by the mind : in visual sign of the Yo ho Yo holy trinity – Mind. Self. Time. That’s trin.alone everything. Ho. That’s it then. Stop. O.K. back again O.K. Revolve. O me K. Please stop. It can’t stop. Keep the medium behind it. O.K. "

- Len Lye