Intissar
Greene
Frustrated by finding no interesting place to sit and observe,
I put a brown paper bag over my head.
The inner sanctum of the grocery sack is a strange landscape set to a
crinkly cacophony. Light struggles
through the paper, casting a dim amber glow inside the space. This container has a pinhole in the top
right corner. Pinholes, by nature, are
insignificant. When seen from inside
the bag, however, the pinhole detonates with a point of light as bright as a
star! Seams for the container’s
construction show their double-layered authority by not allowing any
light to pass.
The printed letters on the outer surface show through
faintly, upside down and backwards, imparting a sense of the surreal to the
event. Miniature saw tooth serrations
along the edges of the sack rasp across neck flesh. Any movement made to avoid them merely results in crisp,
crackling protests from the paper.
This is a place of three-dimensional opinion and texture. Invisible threaded thoughts find their way inside
the bag, much like the numerous micro fibers threading through the parchment
itself. With the breath of imagination,
dents in the paper can become a mountain range, distorted face, or modern art
sculpture. Each exhalation collides
forth to the paper wall and reflects back, in turn, warming the face. In this restricted landscape, every breath
reminds the next breath.