People will fall in two ways in my painting. Head first or feet first. Eisenhower will fall head first, but Jenny and the Virgin Mary will fall feet first. Steinmetz's mother wanted to know if she could fall in my picture and I said yes. Not that I consider this a compromise since I'd planned to have her falling anyway. I gave her a choice of head or feet first, and she took head first. She's afraid that if she falls feet first her dress will billow up over her head. Everybody is in blue, the Duke of Windsor is in navy-blue plus fours while his wife is in sky blue tennis shorts and an off-blue polo shirt. Naturally they fall holding hands. Steinmetz came up and he wants to fall too, though he'll settle for whatever way I put him, feet or head first. He'd like to fall with his cigars. Golub wants to fall too, but he wants to fall with his driving lessons, and I told him that just people will be falling in this picture. He wants to know if he could fall with a gearshift lever in his hand, maybe a brake pedal or two. I'll have to think about that. I think I'll put Golub falling in between Mao Tse-tung and DeGaulle. He asked if he could fall in his blue serge, and I told him yes. Sinkowiz came up and wanted to know how the big one was coming and I told him, but he wanted to see. Funny about Sinkowiz, he never listens to words. He has ears, but I think they're sealed over on the inside. He must read lips. Sinkowiz would fall good. He has that look about his face, the look of someone used to falling, eyeballs detached, cheeks inflated like a parachute, hair grabbing for air. Some people are good at falling, and some not. I'll show this in my picture. My picture takes place in an elevator shaft. Everybody crowding in at the top, falling in the middle. There is no landing. Nobody ever lands. There will be arms and legs and dog heads twirling past elevator cables, some people will slide, holding onto the greased cables with bloody hands and a look of automated horror. Others will ignore the cables and fall like Buddhists burning in Saigon, arrow sure. The grabbers will reach out, twirl, shiver, and fall like animated cartwheels in a firecracker carnival. Everyone will fall in my picture. Heads of state, models, safecrackers, highway patrolmen. I'm considering other things falling. Alarm clocks and forks and crutches.
Thomas Glynn, « Except For the Sickness I'm Quite Healthy Now. You Can Believe That »
