It’s true: I’ve got my fingers in everything,
pulling parakeets from blue air, turning olives
into peonies. A train arrives—Your mother paints you
a new father. The world is dark and bright, strange,
familiar: an alchemy of light, shadow,
and walnut oil. Every day you eat trompe l’oeil
grapes. Delicious, yes? Listen: The formula
is made with Silly Putty. Nothing holds
its shape. Sure as an apricot swells and shrivels,
the surface will give way. Notice how spider milk
wicks across the canvas. A goose sheds
gray feathers, a peach opens at the seam. Oh dear—
Have I made you sad? Here—have a banana. The skin
is false, but go ahead—pinch a corner. Peel.
— from Secret Formulas & Techniques of the Masters
Image: Detail from Lobster for Lunch
@ Louise Craven Hourrigan