Entry 431 — More on the Lunberry Installation
.
When I visited Clark’s installation, I somehow failed to notice that he had three texts, not just one, in water-filled jars in the three-part lobby showcase–because, I guess, two were in colored water. In one respect, I was lucky: at the time, the one I saw, the central one, may have been at its best state of decomposition, for I found it enchantingly like a jut-filled, twisty opening in a secret caves. Here, according to Clark, is a more accurate description of the trio of showcases:
The showcases were divided into three sections, mirroring the stairway (and, of course, something or other outside the library)—water, trees, sky—with each section filled with books selected because that key word happened to be in its title. The selection of books was, as a result, wildly eclectic, linked only by that one word. The water section had, immersed within it, Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams; the trees section had The Selected Writings of Paul Cézanne; and the sky section had André Breton’s surrealist classic Nadja.
Of the three, Cézanne’s writings degraded the most dramatically over the four weeks of their immersion and, by the final week, had taken on something of the geologic look of Cézanne much-painted mountain, Mt. Ste. Victoire. The quality of paper, etc. must have contributed to that.
For the most part, I left the books alone to degrade at their own pace (I’d added color-appropriate water colors to each jar), but a couple of times I got into the jars and shook them up a bit, accelerating the decay (and the variety of pages visible). By the end, the books were, in fact, stinking to high heaven; removing the jars was a disgusting experience, especially the Cézanne; it smelled like a rotting carcass!
.