The Musician turns around in his tracks to encounter another straightaway. Another conundrum. “What is this fresh madness?” he finds himself muttering, but then regrets it. There is meaning here, he senses. He touches his chest and then his brow. “Both are needed,” he says, “just like in penning a good rock tune.” And he’s had several ideas along those lines since he began his investigation of LEA11. A cutup of a George Harrison song comes to mind.
He walks forward again. The image begins to “explode” when he gets about 20 feet from it. Clouds? A head in the clouds again.
His mind drifts back to a George Harrison album cover. No, not George but John: “Imagine” (another head in the clouds). The Musician must focus, however. He checks some of the names attached to the object. “Glass jar dreamer” comes up. “Dream pixelportrait” as well. This must be The Artist, thinks The Musician. Maybe it is just the different creative roles we play in life that separates us, he speculates. I am a Musician, you are an Artist. Inspired I could write a song (or create a song cutout) from this image. After penning it, the song would become part of the overall event. The art does not stop here at the creation, but extends into each person who views it, even far far into the future. Art — all creativity — has resonance far beyond what we give it credit for. The Musician realizes he’s reimagining the art just by experiencing it.
He moves even closer. Flesh tones.
He glances to the sides, noting that ubiquitous, flowing haired child on seahorses through curved openings in each direction. The pink seahorse to the north, the white one to the south. And not quite in line with each other. The Musician, or I should say, I, baker b. or Baker Bloch, the creator of The Musician, directly contacted The Artist today (i.e., Art Oluja) about a matter involving the pink seahorse and its rider. If I understood the reply correctly, the object has the ability to rotate in place, sensing when someone is nearby. The Musician decides to experiment with this new information.
He drops out of the space with the pixelated cloud being. Yes, the object points to where he jumped from now.
He stands on the opposite side — it points to him again.
Mystery solved. This is like Carrcassonnee’s (formerly!) all seeing eye that followed you everywhere. A seeing eye horse? He must get back on track. Where to forth next?
Turns out he’s staring right at it.