Willowbrook seat - ongoing
I find myself longing for the days of the pandemic, when I squirreled myself away in a makeshift screening room in my flat and watched movies wondering if the world would end.
Of course the world ends regardless. So here I go looking at chateau noir*-y / pinot noir-y, heart-hurt, world-dead movies three years on from those events.
I sit in a different makeshift screening area in my flat bedroom. Though perched high in the sky I imagine, behind the curtains, willow trees and a stream. This is beyond explanation.
*Semi in-joke between twins, referencing Matisse's The Grounds of the Château Noir (National Gallery, London), our touchstone for a concept of solitary artistic delirium.
Of course the world ends regardless. So here I go looking at chateau noir*-y / pinot noir-y, heart-hurt, world-dead movies three years on from those events.
I sit in a different makeshift screening area in my flat bedroom. Though perched high in the sky I imagine, behind the curtains, willow trees and a stream. This is beyond explanation.
*Semi in-joke between twins, referencing Matisse's The Grounds of the Château Noir (National Gallery, London), our touchstone for a concept of solitary artistic delirium.
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