Slinkachu

I love randomly finding artist's websites. I do believe that this is one of my favorites that I've come across. This artist goes by the name of Slinkachu, creating mini urban installation art, which he documents with photography. Before looking at his art, though, I strongly recommend reading over his bio and faq - both are relatively short and informative, with a twist of humor and some sound-footed meaning. His two projects, 'Little People Project' and 'Inner City Snail', are both right up my ally because they confront the soul-sucking banality of urban life with small, poignant (and sometimes very tongue-in-cheek) touches. A man after my own heart, though he claims to be too much to handle.

I have found myself often writing about the isolation and anonymity of urban life in my poetry, specifically when it is about my current home city, New Brunswick. I empathize with the feelings and thoughts evoked in the 'Little People Project'. Not only do the themes of the pieces reflect some sort of social/personal tension - whether it is an attempt to make connections with others, to vent frustrations, or to reflect tragedy and irony - but the tiny, probably mostly unnoticed figures themselves exude loneliness in the midst of a city full of people. The little fish in the big pond kind of thing. These are just little people lost to the daily disinterest of big people.

This work also deeply intrigued me because I generally try to take great care to notice small things in everyday life and to celebrate the beauty in things commonplace. I would like to think that I would notice a Little Person, should I pass him or her on the street. I admit that I probably fall into the trappings of routine and my own thought pools more often than I would like, and probably more often than I know, but those thoughts might now include looking for these little guys... even though I know Slinkachu is working somewhere over on the other side of the ocean.

Anyway, this isn't supposed to just be about how I "get" this work, but more about how these things that I "get" are things I would like to share. So please take a look at Slinkachu's stuff, let me know what you think, if just to humor me. But it will be good for you, just swallow it whole. I think New Brunswick could use some Little People at least... we don't have many snails here. Squirrel art, maybe? Scrap bottle cap faces? I could give that a go, myself. Nothing like a little creative inspiration.

Lacan, roughly

The fact that one says remains forgotten behind what is said in what is heard.
- Lacan, roughly

Say what?/I totally get it.
Simultaneous confusion/epiphany enveloping brain like wave curl of foam bedding. It's like that, roughly.

Six am pour

I walk outside after the sun has been up.
The rain has slicked down the morning streets.

I imagine God is an old woman throwing out last night's water
to keep the dust down and the soured stench of the sidewalks damp.

It sticks to the back of my throat and to the bottom of my shoes
and I track it under bridges, where the runoff
of greasy trains steadily drips onto someday stalagmites.

I lose my footprints among the mismatched directives of others.

We wash each other out,
publicly dumping our dirty bathwater through the city doorstep.

We tramp through puddles of each others' quiet late-night tribulations,
obscuring the source of all the wetness.

We inhale the thick steam of moistened gutters,
running with stale bony truths and oily secrets.

We step off curbs, over turgid rivulets, proud and long-legged
in our daybreak confidence, smelling the summer exhale of wet pavement
and confusing it with fresh-ripped ozone, God's hot breath.

Looking up