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Unless a message is anchored in form it will not hold memory but will be swept over the falls along with the other bits of imput crashing over our heads.

That, and then there is the problem that knowledge can be compartmentalized in the mind in ways that bury its significance. It is my belief that only through mystification and allegory can the collective imagination hold memory cross generations; otherwise it evaporates. The iconic figure is central to the way I tell stories. The silent human image can act as a screen for the viewer to reflect inwardly in a deliberate calm. Then the duration of the experience in front of the image can touch us.1

There are those who would object to my images. But to those who wish to object I say be careful that your critique is not coming from an arrogance of superior place and perspective. For we no longer talk about life but how we talk. Like pharoanic mummies we have progressive layers keeping us busy with our protocols.

They have included in recent decades the unspoken prohibition against emotion. We can make a sham of emotion but cringe at the naive display of it. It is a loss of face to be naked before the world - better nonchalance than show your underbelly. But naivete' can be so much stronger than the hand of detached irony. It will be messy though. It remains in the nose.2

1, Richard Rappaport, Ashes in the Wind, "Portraits & Passages", Chapter 27, www.richard-rappaport.net.

2, Richard Rappaport, The Oven's Womb, "Portraits & Passages", Chapter 28, www.richard-rappaport.net.