I've been ejected from the golf course management degree (even though I never hit a golf ball). It wasn't only the constant fear of being hit by a ball, it was all the fertilizer I inhaled from the greens. I'm now studying 'Pataphysics, the science of the particular, the science of 'laws governing exceptions'. I've swapped golf holes (green holes) for Black holes.
Sunday, 11 March 2012
Postboys Growing Mail
Look how Rosalind Wicks recorded her son growing up next to a letterbox. In both photographs the colour of the clothes is carefully matched, right down to the sandals and socks.
I wonder, did she stop when adolescence set in - when the boy's mouth reached the same height as the mouth of the letterbox, and the two could kiss? Or is there a Rosalind Wicks postbox-postcard-take on Doisneau's 'Kiss', somewhere out there?