Friday, 5 August 2011

Ink Eraser

It is in the name of summer warmth and luxuriant sunshine (or the hope of it) that the human flesh allows itself to overflow from within strapless tops and shorter than short shorts, that the human toes hidden until this time are triumphantly presented to the world in all their gruesome glory (rogue hairs, bunions, fungal growths, overgrown toenails), that the picnic coolboxes come out of cupboards ready to store sweaty cheese and wilting salads, and that men with ample stomachs don Tee shirts proclaiming that “Surf’s Up”.  

Palimpsest finds Summer to be an ink eraser. Is it the light that reveals defects, unmasks, brings disarray, jumbles the signals? It feels like writing with ink on a tarpaulin. Even if it rains, summer has this quality of disorder, of erasure – it slides away unwritten. I used to enjoy the vacuum of summer, I used to wallow in its emptiness, I used to not mind its exposed flesh. Now I do not wish for erasure or un-restraint. Inscription demands order, control, discipline.

Object in Inklinks today: Sanford’s Ink Eraser

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