Nothing, no matter how low or high, profane or sublime, escaped P’s prescient eye. The weightiness of her representation in arrangements of found objects of art and the everyday was only apprehended by perspective – it was as Arendt observed of Benjamin’s quotations… But I’m getting ahead of myself here, and have theorized without having rehearsed my first encounter with P and all those subsequent intimate moments, which ultimately led to a rupture that haunts me to this very day. What I will attempt to do, is to create a Figura, an earthly drama which has been embellished only in its duration, and “without aesthetic restriction in either subject matter or form,” present an allegory for our age.
Let us first grant that we stare into windows, habitually and with great obsessive uniformity. Every one knows these windows, their type, their particular form and manner of display, but we will spare the prose the name we have given these windows of late. It seems that finally we are all flaneurs and connoisseurs...
When I first viewed P through one of these windows I met a gaze as if I had scanned some distant object through a looking glass...
The glaring eyes of a siren or Svengali as some friends intoned later...
But I thought,
Child of the pure unclouded brow
and dreaming eyes of wonder
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