![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-wyk-7SJYX0WOWuDbIxhgvMCuzrncCBsZm2jYxasPbwOMoUwP2vGf-t7S9pk3cvxVm0clWaRBmO7RC_fhygxcRRDYmnEUoPL8-1Ek8YZR9L1b6LcwBAn4VkfpoWCFKmuChUF8QhYyeJM/s640/Ricky+Swallow+at+David+Kordansky.jpg)
(link)
Cast the world in bronze, make it an image, a trophy. People like permanence. And these are an act of making-permanent, of embalming. Stupid, but permanent. We like permanence. The aesthetic of permanence. The Tuttles will melt but these will stay until our endtimes. A Tuttle made by Charles Ray. Mark Mander's Nocturnal Garden Scene, a slackness of rope converted to "a three-dimensional photograph." Against the Wurtzian resurgence these feel megalomanic. A cartooning of the world rendered plastic. Casting your desire for forever.