SUN’S TRUE PURPOSE

Micheal Asher

the time has come again for the changing of the set. The foliage once used to block the sun’s attention must now leave, but only for a while. That’s okay, the summer is leaving soon as well. Like the casual friend who often talks too loudly at backyard dinners, and who convinced us that staying a bit longer than was comfortable made perfect sense, but has now taken a gig across the world. Sadly, that fiery friend will soon be preoccupied with moving into their new place and likely lose track of time because they must acquaint themselves with another cast. The warmth of their presence will taper away slowly like the fading harmonics of a pitchfork, the absence forever holding space somewhere inside a dream within a dream. What time remains to indulge ourselves in the show’s eloquent monologue never seems enough. Then, one day, the search for that connection comes up empty.

So, as trees change color and sheets of clouds stretch snugly across the stages once painted azure to match the rivers and the oceans, once all those encores will have ended, the sun’s absence will be mourned for a time, but then a breeze will come rushing past. Rustling in the distance hints that the wind has begun to dance around behind the curtains, gathering courage, pacing nervously. Then it claims the dais as its own, and is accompanied by the percussionists, who are gathering in the wings wielding rain’s melancholy cadence. One thing is certain, this will be a raucous arena very soon.

The costume designers are already changing the wardrobes for the next show. Short shirts have now been covered by cardigans and smartly fashioned jackets, while the squeaking of new boots have begun to replace the clip-clapping footsteps of mostly naked feet. But not all the flesh will remain covered, not always, so where the fans have painted tributes onto their bodies, those memories remain as gifts to be shared with lovers new and old. They are seen walking, barely speaking, in dimlit streets littered with colorful leaflets haphazardly scattered there to announce the grand eventuality that is surely soon to come. Awaiting them is the opening of a new season, which always has and surely will always change the mood’s melody. Hand finds hand or holds the small of the back. And as eye catches eye, soul grabs soul, and then the space between both becomes incrementally less as it fills with warm mischief. This is the sun’s eager substitute. This place is where the sun’s true purpose is revealed to the world. The beauty in all of this is found once we realize that it is during moments like these that people truly begin to feel the fall.

Berry Good Driver

dottie baGby Mixed Media.