Wednesday, May 06, 2009
A cockroach in the hallway today displayed none of the behavioral symptoms of cockroach-ness. It failed to run away, it peered at the light, and it didn't crouch down when I did so to investigate it. Its antennae flicked lazily back and forth, tasted the air as I disturbed it and sent tiny molecules of myself, regarding me as I regarded it. It and its peers have survived unmolested by evolution for centuries because of their desire to be together in the dark.
To be in the light alone is to die for a cockroach, and not only the limited range of species who've moved to the apartments and restaurants of the urban undergrowth. In rotting logs and beneath fallen leaves moist with decay stoop the tiny millions of them, unrecognizable to us accustomed to only the date brown of the kitchen dweller.
The ant and the bee, the tireless metaphors for labor--the tiny women of work who have become so accustomed to their own task that they will pursue it regardless of the presence of their thread waisted siblings. Not so the cockroach, for whom solitude is anathema. The ant and the bee are marked and modified numerous times by the fractional change of mutation, but today's cockroach would be indistinguishable from one thousands of years previous and thousands of years hence.
Why, little cockroach, don't you want to huddle in the dark?
PS If you ever want to buy any of the art I post, please message me. All of my work is for sale as long as it hasn't been sold yet.
PPS I have a piece at the UAM in Long Beach, with a reception on the 14th of this month. You should come and pretend you don't know me, and then say something in an outside voice about how wonderful that one piece by Camilla Taylor is.
Posted by Camilla Taylor at 11:54 PM