Diminutive, in a bowler hat, black high-tops with white soles--white souls, yes, Guston's conceit, a kind of universal reversibility...where the image of a hooded figure hanging from a tree can mirror an LA garage, finding his own father...
But here, rivets and gloom, reaching into the dark, a performance, yes, and an incantation--figures around a fire, dancing into the night, greeting the stars, the moon...
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