Art Works

Richard Marshall

This isn't what you saw

A dark ecclesiastical checklist...

A kind of missing repose

After thrusting oblivion comes ceaseless destiny

it's essentially about being overlooked in the form of a contradiction

An ego set up in its own normativity

Cinderella will be eaten

Dance bitches

Her own senseless plenitude was still dressed in its own nostalgia

It was all about a sort of fidelity to ontological commitments

An all embracing system of orgasmic need

Macbeth's deranged totality of presence

Memory portrait as apocalypse yokel

No doubt this myth is a rebuke to your fabulous face of dainty vignettes

No sooner was the sun dipping horizons became reversed

O watcher thou hast watched in vain

Please to meet you Mr Sade, Mr Bellmer

Some of these dark pastures for the promiscuous come without writing

The carnivores are piano players

The darkness continued but the monster had already left

The desperate melancholy of dolphin metaphysics

The distressed sui generis

The excessive exhibition of accusative form

The gestalt egg

The poet in oblivion has a hot move

This condemned freedom of coordinated hours

The subject who weilds deadly power is clearly defined

Visible things aren't supposed to terminate in obscurity and silence

Who owns that dog

You can't pin me down to anything primitive or permanent

As far as bremature burial goes

Glimpsed regularities of their trapped behaviours

Horror and ghost stories hint at the ineffable but do so to transmit a sense of an uncanny disjunct in the audience

No institution can abolish age, nor vice nor disease nor any sense that to do so would be to abolish us

On a Berlin road

Our imagination is not limitless


Repetitive sequences of primitive solutions

She wrecks any scantily dressed default understanding of reality, self and communication

Some catastrophes are unknown. Some are unknowable

That impressive object, its gigantic shape and process so aligned to establish what infernal will has imposed and made

The affirmation of life asserting its own continuation and on its own terms no matter how disorganized, incoherent and crazy

The frisson is created by this jarring of incommensurates

Threat and a sinister discontinuity within the mundane

What golden lights, what larvas