Lavalou Man

Image by Bialy

And the question would be – where is the Lavalou Man? Be he aficionado, devotee [or] 
purveyor, of the favored botanical. Or rather where, in the image delivered, is he among such
 entities and articles, as rather flatly are emerging from this rather intransigent presentation 
of materials?

Where is the Lavalou, man (man).

Purveyor, aficanado, devotee, the Man Himself. This series is not disjunctive. The Lavalou 
Man resides in the folds, the passes, the occlusions. Affined to the evanescent personality of
 the botanical itself.

A clue. There is, it appears, a thing here, not an image only. And the thing is an extrusion of 
the particular will to feast on imagery. The business begins with a will to see. And ends with
 a thing to be seen. An unexceptionable itinerary.

Folded metal slabs of unshook foil: a la derecha.

Bottom left: A slab of metal spoiled by paint.

The transformations of beinghood are perpetrated within small compass. We shall delete 
reference to the particular entities as they initiate and terminate attention and concentrate 
upon the transitional modalities within which said entities resume each other’s 
“portion”—side-stepping the order of fatalities entirely. Not that it is uncommon that an 
image occlude the issue of its destiny. Attention to the elision thereof—that is uncommon 
indeed.

The little images do elide among each other. We shall not count them. The fatal motion is 
neither serial (disjunctive) nor controlled by any habit of pure order. That fatality remains in
 spite of the dissolution of access to narrativity through such machinery is worthy of note.
I have hesitated till now to bring to our attention the writings if Bruno Schultz. There are 
things, says Schultz, whose being is excerpted from time, left behind, or simply out-posted to 
lodgings, no school describes this.

But these things are not exempt from a certain fatality, though one which quite anomalously 
excerpts even fate from time. An itinerary that, again, is indeed uncommon.

Blue night, not without its representations of velocity – quasi-stellar sources darting off to 
the margins. A silver machine composed of straps and flattened buttresses and a wall to 
frame the landscape of that which defies what cannot be.

I would not pretend to preempt the cogitations of the Lavalou Man, especially in regard to 
his own teaming ground; his “authority,” such as it is, comprises an entire territorial 
imperative, and his invitations, like invitations quite generally, come along with an 
expectation that they will not be refused. He does not suffer solicitations in this regard. He 
will leave you quite alone on the condition of simultaneous reciprocation.

The dispossession that arises in one’s attitude when he makes himself scarce at offensively 
inappropriate intervals, is, in an inverted sense, exemplary.

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