Wet streets in Little Haiti. No thrum from anyone last Monday—real Monday-like—but a bright light shined at the end of the block. Next-door, across the alley, there’s another place of worship, which is similar, but different, and from both, sermons are spilling onto northeast Second Avenue.
(Now, at the time of this writing, it’s Monday again and the carnival is packing up their tired elephants. Countless are maneuvering their dead-feeling bodies into the shower before the cab arrives, or before their 9-5 starts its process of again, and again, and again.)
Picture in your mind a series of banners: two lines of banners hanging parallel, fanning inward with a V-shape, forming a sort of closing hallway you may recognize from various nightmares or out-of-body experiences. The banners are colorful, and the type that hang along the sides of light posts and telephone poles that advertise upcoming events.
[Published on December 8, 2014 on Temporary Art Review. Read the rest here.]