I’m hoping to create a spark of unexpected chemistry here, by combining two marginal, yet related art forms:
1. The garbled proto-poetry of desperate russian (they’re always russian) spammers, trying to save their precious messages from the jaws of sophisticated spam filters by inventing a language that computers can’t decipher, but we can.
2. The long, long tradition of flower painting, now sadly neglected. From roman mosaics to renaissance bouffants (with a moral punch line); from Morriss’ tangled wallpapers to Georgia O’Keeffes’ engorged celebrations.
We all love flowers, but maybe that’s the problem. . . .The archetypal symbol of aesthetic beauty (abstract art on a stick), the ultimate metaphor of inevitable decay (2nd law of thermodynamics), corny love (1st law of unimaginative courtship). . . cliché, cliché, cliché, stamped on every fading petal and swelling bud.
It’s a lost cause.
Enter the pale, skinny spammer, locked in an arms race with a small platoon of corporate coders. He/she has to pull out something special, freestyling, right-braining, pouring out this garbage that seems to me to have a weird, innocent charm about it.
As simple and life affirming as a bunch of gorgeous flowers.
(A blue-tinged version of heaven . . . see Viagra, side effects).
(Assuming the pills aren’t fake).
(Assuming they won’t sue me for copyright infringement).