Category Archives: Oz

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The Bogota series, The Arab ponders here, studying the collage section of the blog. Half series, half not, the complexity of the photo-novels weighing in again. Since Boos, collages have depended on its now enormous (ponderous?) storyline. That was 2015. This is 2022. A long time for collages to serve another master and not themselves as completed, self contained art works, or at least self contained art series. Bogota changed all that. Bogota never had its own gallery, although I tried to make a unified sense of the whole. Didn’t work, except, a bit, for inclusive series Bogota Proper, as I call it, and, more recently — in the last year and a 1/2 or so — Picturetown, another Canadian based series like Boos before it, notably enough. But even Picturetown was different: separate it from the attached photo-novel, 24 in a series of, presently, 32, and the meaning is severely diluted, maybe irreparably damaged. Yet I still do create individual collages here and there in the continuing process. This, I assume, will continue…

Looking back on it, audio-visual synchronicities, another kind of collage, go hand in hand with the 2d, more “regular” ones. What one might call the first true movie collage of the bunch, “Billfork” back in 2004, was created in the same year as the 1st 2d collage series in Greenup. Then, on the other side, Boos was created about the same time as the last audio-visual collages I made in 2015-2016.

Just moving down the blog headers to Reality — Reality, pheh, what a concept! — I’ve hiked almost every day since I retired March 1. I’ve included some RL photos in the blog recently, but I want to do more of that. It’s all going to a place where I concoct one of those woodsy art happenings again, like with Bigfoot-Chesterton also from 2015-2016, another of those seeming last-of-its-kind phenomenon. Truth is, I think that audio-visual synching will return, albeit in a very different and unexpected form. Collage series will continue, perhaps separating out from virtual reality again and relying more on themselves alone for meaning. Writing is very important, but art also will go on.

And I’ll probably try my hand at an actual novel sometime, sans pictures. The setting may very well be Oz.

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draining the swamp (reverso world)

“He’s one of us now.”

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Tin

“It’s Dr. Blood, right?”

Dr. Blood:

It use to be the Tin Woodman of Oz. But not the Tin Woodsman as it is often pronounced. Some called me just Tinman.

Carr.:

You are also known as Dr. Blood in Collagesity; that’s how I’ve always known you. But you don’t remember me.

Dr. Blood:

I do now. Starting just a couple of minute ago, when I first laid eyes on you.

Carr.:

And you remember being in Baker Blinker’s house taking a shower.

Dr. Blood:

I do now. It’s all kicking back. I was trapped in the woods that time forgot until this very morning. When I was a flesh and blood man — just like you, Homer — I chopped trees as a function. Nick Chopper I was called. I fell in love with a village maiden servant whose master did not approve. She bribed a wicked witch from the east to enchant my formerly trusted axe. I started hacking away at my own extremities one by one. An arm in January, a leg in March. Even my head at the end. Ku-klip the tinsmith replaced each with a tin replica as they went away. So I still thought, still breathed, still acted. Yet he forgot to make me a new heart. And I’ve never loved since. And so, to me, I’ve never *lived* since. Trapped until today.

Homer:

This story seems familiar. You’re not the Futurama robot?

Dr. Blood (patiently):

I’ve told you this story before, Homer. How I got caught in a shower and became immobile?

Carr.:

We’ve all heard portions of the story, Mr. Simpson. You have “The Wizard of Oz” film in your Springfield, don’t you? Some form of it is available in all planes I know of.

Homer:

Is that the one those Pink Floyd guys did the music for?

Carr.:

In one dimension, yes. How did you two meet?

Dr. Blood:

I found Homer in the meat of the forest surrounded on all sides by the transparent, hyperdimensional Tinbaby, the one who gave me my exterior heart from the future.

Homer:

Futurama, see? Told you.

Carr.:

Ah, the vortex opens. Collagesity citizens have seen the Tinbaby too.

Dr. Blood:

It is me in the future, when I get younger.

Carr.:

But you’re getting older, like all of us. I’m 415 now. Last year this time I was 414. And the year before that: 413. And so on back through the eons. Is that not how it works for you?

Dr. Blood:

It didn’t. But it does.

Carr.:

Stop your stop talk. I want to do a test now. Go up that ladder just behind you Dr. Blood and see if you pass through the door at the stop. Top, I meant there. Stop top? We’ll see.

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