"Extension cage." Isn't this a lovely place? Great herds of intelligent human beings dozed in a spacious split-level suburban cage, not asking too many questions. A calm, docile, peaceful, sort of life in individual stalls, more or less alike, surrounded by rectangular wrought-iron fencing and an intricate circlet of pressure points. Civilized domestic animals fed with vast amounts of scrambled information. The clawed hand of an eagle ruled successfully, as a greenish symbol of security over the natural extension of Our ancestors, so distinguished compared to those trapped animals. "I must have adapted." Internal combustion, neuron by neuron, mechanical instruments measuring devices, a variable condenser, industrial spigots trickling invisible chemical fertilizers, a steel needle penetrating the life habits of an exhausted lion. "I've seen enough." The final emptiness of glass and concrete armor. Fruit flies perched on the pungent edge of extinction apparently imprisoned by a long and happy life. "Can we look at something else?" When the fences were opened, a taller, more slender monkey began making tracks. Frolicking animals throw things and need no chronicles.
mixed on paper, 20" x 28"
JAMES W JOHNSON