These works are profound – profoundly profound! Combined they represents a perilous sojourn of the human spirit. I would love nothing more than to reveal the revelations, innumerable in number, which in their shameless intersections form the forms before you, but we both know that any naïve attempt to verbalize such things would only culminate in a feral pack of words marauding across our thoughts, the entrails of our initial inspiration clutched in their snapping maws.

Instead of bemoaning the savage character of our medium, or worse pretending that it is within our power to domesticate it, we must assume a shamanistic mentality, fetishizeing this snarling beast in an attempt to divine meaning from its paroxystic manifestations.

“The Passionate Love Ballad of Saint Cadillac Sassoon”

The names of dead racehorses and failed dotcom corporations
Will be branded Into the massive amethyst columns
That will adorn the many temples
Erected in his honor

From within these Olympian temples
Bi-annual bacchanalian ceremonies will erupt
Where droves of Elvis impersonators
Wearing the still living pelts of civets
Will sacrifice virgin midgets of every race and creed.

Thousands of devotees
Will smear their bodies
With a past made from paprika, holy water, and bat guano,
And then perform a three day long erotic dance
In a huge vat of pig blood and methamphetamines.

Animals will come forth from the forests
And recite palindromic prophetic poetry In Aramaic.

The elements of the periodic table will abandon their petty differences
And live in Harmony under one name
– The name of Saint Cadillac Sassoon.

God and all his angels
Will joyously fly kamikaze missions
Into their own aircraft carriers of unconditional love.

Atop mount Golgotha,
Sakyamuni
Clothed, like Hercules before him, in the fearsome skin of Ronald Reagan
Will once again give his flower sermon
To the innumerable bastard children of Emily Dickinson.

Billy Graham will use his demonic powers to reanimate the putrid corpses
Of JonBenet Ramsey and Lady Die
So that they may mud wrestle for the edification of the Dubaian Emir
– For this is the only way to ensure safe passage
Of our American SimulacraDharma
To its new home in the Emirates

All this in the name of Saint Sassoon, All this and more…

This snippet of Sassonnic litany is characteristic of all communication. At every juncture we frantically invoke language as if it will somehow bring us closer together – bring us some relief from an existence that is fundamentally alone. But the absurd mingling of our words will only result in a more profound alienation – in this alone we will share. This is the unacknowledged content of our every exchange, the font from which ruptures self-absorbed cacophonies of words.

In existential revolt, I still persist in my attempt to introduce the duplicitous possibility of original textual content, specifically a conceptual dissertation of three sculptures; the Zenith of Mushin, the Savage Appliance, and the Frontier. This specter of content, beyond that of our mutual solitude, is not something that these words will impartially convey, but rather something that they will use as a pretext to engage in their own wonton ecstasy (as was witnessed in the cavorting of Saint Sassoon). Let us instead view this premise of content, as we would view the chum used to elicit a feeding frenzy among sharks. We will offer up my shattered carcass of content as bait for this leviathan of language so that we may more closely study its habits. Only through this mode of perception can you and I engage in this frenzied spectacle and draw from the exchange any experience worth later baptizing as communication.

Savagely yours,
The devotee of Sassoon –Arthur III