PSA_124

There was once this psychotic artist who painted a curved line onto the surface before him. The brush soon arrived at the same point that it started. He had painted a circle at the peak of his troubled teens. He stared into the open circle for hours yet saw NOTHING. He decided to coat the edge of this portal, as if a fresh trace in new wet paint would give another chance at life. He saw nothing. "Maybe it's the damned drying paint!?" he clearly enunciated to no one. He decided that "..to keep the portal open, I must invigorate it's edge with wet paint constantly!" (his thoughts sometimes find his mouth and escape) When the brush made it's way through the start again he noticed that if he painted at that same even pace, the line would stay wet. He knew his arm was memorizing the motion, so soon his arm could paint the line without his attention, only then could he send ALL of his mental energies through the portal, to engage with what he seeks. Yet still, he saw nothing. His psyche became this process. The line defining the circle began to extrude away from the surface (from paint upon paint upon paint upon paint, etc.) The day he turned 87, he crawled into the long paint tunnel standing out from the wall, and made up for all lost sleep. The artscience curators built aesthetically unobtrusive crystal scaffolding to hold the weight of the artobject, they sealed the mouth of the tunnel with thick glass, they injected the cavity with clear resin, they drilled into the tunnel a matrix of LEDs to evenly light the interior with the sleeping old man. It has it's own dark, sound-canceled room in the museum. Busloads of feild-trippers are always mesmerized for minutes and pick it as "favorite".  A picture of it was even printed in an art book once.