On Physicality

 

Saturday night 

Down the dogleg and into the hollow, cloud has created an inversion. Bush fire smoke carried by high winds is seeping across inner north.

Michaelangelo’s David embodies heroism and physical perfection. Unlike other artists, the master chose to depict David before the battle, and the triumph.

It took years and a lot of discarded marble before Michaelangelo could make a 17 foot man stand unassisted. The David emerged from poor quality marble. The skin has always been pitted and the ankles have begun to crack over time. 

Designed to be seen from below, David is out of proportion in places, the better to display anatomy, tension and grace. One hand is bigger than the other. 

A living man will fall over if he attempts the David pose.  It is physically impossible. 

Summernats after midnight

Slack bodies in modified automatic vehicles, misfiring in pointless contempt down Northbourne Avenue. 

Years ago, I asked a car enthusiast in a shitty car, why is it fun? He said he’d wasted prime years in prison and wanted to make up for it with fun. I told him, calm down Mandela, you were only in jail for 13 months.

Very late, the sound of a solitary superbike on an empty three lane throughfare. Enormous power under control, the rider in synch. Hear the acceleration and the slowing down, and understand the mechanics.

Feel the poise, the balance, the glide and the transition from motion to anticipation. The vibrations, the tension, the flex of all the moving parts under the skin. Feel the heart, the blood, the air they breath. Know the torment, the rage and the yearning.