The fishy looking bag reminded my of an artist called Evergon. A few years ago I knew a woman who knew Evergon (he goes by just the one name), and through her I invited him to give a talk to our MA students. It was an unforgettable talk, but we weren’t prepared for his ‘live’, practical, follow-up session’. One of the ways Evergon spends his time is by collecting various items of soiled underwear - usually mans’ pants - he finds abandoned at roadside laybys and truck stops (in the USA). And then, with forensic precision, our poet of scenes of gay trucker passion, bags (clear plastic, zip-up freezer-bags) and meticulously labels (with the date and location) – each item of soiled underwear, before adding it to his ever-growing collection.
When Evergon came to give his talk, he also came equipped with several pairs of the said, ‘found’, semen-stained underpants; and it was under the intense heat of the photographic lights of his ‘live’ practical follow-up session, which entailed Evergon conducting a photographic Masterclass in, ‘the best light in which to portray soiled pants’, that things really started to hot up.
The heat generated by of the photographic lighting had a greenhouse effect on semen-stained pants, sealed in their plastic bags. The bags began to melt and the smell – vintage, dried semen -, it was indescribable; bleach vapor inhaled off a red-hot shovel is the nearest thing to it I can imagine. The terrible aroma lingered in the photographic studio long after Evergon had gone.
As to my fishy find: I squeezed it dry before carrying on by.
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