Partners to a quarrel have a way of proposing themselves for that purpose to each others' eyes, whom natural selection identifies, pretty well. One's acceptance is only slightly less predictable. Had the photographer seen the gaping mouth formed by the elbow, holding the umbrella, as a cry of pain from the hatcheting fender and license plate behind, or was the precision of the parallel borders of black above not arranged to frame the extended neck so perfectly? The purpose of the quarrel is to displace acute considerations of quite another kind, to a field agreed upon for the familiarity, the security of its footing. Chaos, however, looks on with all the opportunism of any player, alert to the other's vision.
Ralph Gleason
photograph
1954
Pablo Picasso
Guernica
1937
Jegor Venned
2017
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