Fetish Robot part I: Maria
This is choreographed in a manner like Pina Bausch. It is jagged, dirty and pornographic. Do you remember the pike square? It is something that was witnessed for the briefest of moments before the turn of the century. I imagine that drug addicts have the same fondness for the effects of the altered mind and body that I express here for the robot fetish; rejecting the observed state of the mundane for something fantastic, dangerous.
Fetish Robot part II: Percival
This is at once the rocket and math. It is explosive with violent thrust in blinding light yet is only pencil on paper. This is a machine which is asleep while dreaming of extraordinary things.
Fetish Robot part III: Anselm’s Upholstered Machines
This is the Replicant variety. It depends on resolution. This is satelite imagery which reveals a pattern of invisible beings shining, staining the air, sending transmission to anyone who will listen. Pinocchio. Pinocchio. Pinocchio.
Fetish Robot part IV: Gustav
This is paint by numbers communication filling in an idea which is wholly human like the invented gods we pray to. There is a stripper hidden in the message. There are signs of life. One will latch onto that trace of life no matter how complex or simple. One will latch to the stripper’s tits feeling that glitter mixed with oil tell all there is to know about life. Many will latch to god and in doing so, be the wrench in the machine.
Fetish Robot part V: The Bride
She is asleep. Next to me in a squarish bed, sleeping. Exposed but not molested. She will wake and all the agriculture of Earth will wake, the city lights will broadcast that she is alive. I tell no lie! I tell no lie! I tell no lie!