The Birds
Look, here there is room: rock, air, fire, water. They have given up calling. They have given up their differences. Birds choir the trees in this boneyard. The crows come and go as if the air were leisure—free of grooves, free of routes. The birds fly a cat's cradle of strings, webbing the element that is air (that is breath, that is a conflagration of Souls), revolving and revolving, turning the pages like a madman believing he is a book, furthering the elements (rock, fire), carefully turning the pages (water, air), turning night into day. Onslaught of days made of arrivals, departures. The elements shiftless as belief, turning into the next day and the next. The night giving back its differences (rock, air, fire, water) until they are all a backdrop of a single kind for the one hand the mind knows the mind is.
Available Originals
Artworks can be purchased for $450 each by contacting the artist, Christopher Stackhouse. 20% of every sale will be donated to Ugly Duckling Presse.