TITLE: O, LOVER! O, DEATH! / A Tragic Account of the Life of The Infinite Woman in 1950, in 1850, in 2500 BCE, or, In this one heroine,
Edison Marshall has created every woman with her natural gifts of beauty, passion, and power, or, Against the dispersed, contingent, and multiple existences of actual women, mythical thought opposed the Eternal Feminine, unique and changeless. If the definition provided for this concept is contradicted by the behavior of flesh-and-blood women, it is the latter who are wrong, or, Lilith, Lucia Riley, Kali, Lola Montero, Eve, Lola Montez, and Eliza Gilbert in the garden, in the sea, in the forest, in the mine pit, in the grave, or, I am incapable of conceiving infinity, and yet I do not accept finity. I want this adventure that is the context of my life to go on without end.
MEDIUM: book, cord, text, gold leaf, crystal urn pendant, bone ash, lavender moss
DIMENSIONS/RUN TIME: 8 1/2″ x 5 1/2″ closed / 8 1/2″ x 11″ opened
DESCRIPTION/STATEMENT: Each of us is a mirror to his own world. What scene would you choose? – Out of sight of land, I lost sight of my landmarks behind me and before. I had no sense of forward movement; the sea was all around me when I went to sleep and when I wakened; it changed with every least change of light and wind, but we remained a rocking, rolling island, moored amid its storms, calms, currents, and rolling waves. The clock of my heart kept ticking, but I did not look or listen. – The moonlight showed us the form and face of Kali under a stone cowl. She was pit-black with four arms, each with a red-palmed hand; her eyes were red, and her tongue and face and breasts were stained with blood; her teeth were pointed fangs, and around her neck was a string of skulls and about her waist a girdleof twisted snakes. – A light that I had held slowly burned down. I could not see by it any more and began to doubt what it had shown me before. It was nothing like the sun, my bleak heart told me. It was an artificial light. – Again we were in the shadow, and soon floating into a heavy growth of moss and water grasses. Let me know the taste of the fruit of evil, that will fall into my hands when my soul is lost. See, I lie low in the rank, wet weed. I dared not look into the bleak mirrors. There came creeping a golden faun. – The sides of the shaft leaned slowly inward and pitched down. The derrick gave way and fell in twisted ruin. And my soul went from me – I thought it was the last laugh, and no one ever born could ever laugh again.