This pictogram probably warns of some kind of accident regarding a wheel. But I prefer to think of it as this poor fellow being crushed beneath the weight of his own existentialism. He does not cry out, only barely manages to raise a weak appendage. Clearly, he is doomed.
Of what were we talking? Oh yes, the fruitless course of our natural existence. Was that not it? No? Oh you were about to pass me some xanax and a Hendrick’s mule. You’re true blue! What would I do without you? Chew apart my splendid manicure, for one. Which would be a shame, because it took patience and care to make my finger tips spell “unloveable”, as Morrissey would have them. Sanity may be shattered but the dirty glamour, saved. We have our priorities.Â
I am still searching for the right extraordinary human artist to share in my studio space odyssey. My favorite inquiry so far said, in its entirety, “Do I hoave to authenticate?”(sic). I have zero idea what was going through that individual’s mind. Probably very little, but the answer would have to be “yes!” Authenticate, sir, or be gone!