... I am with some others, not identified, searching for the
spirit of a dead artist. We find ourselves in a church. It is gloomy, very Gothic,
with raised tombstones, altars, rows of pews, light streaming in through stained glass windows. I’m leaning at an altar rail, I
think—or at a rail of some kind, perhaps around a tomb—and feel myself “possessed” by the artist’s
spirit. I am sweating, shaking to my inner core, but the others seem not to notice.
The next day, our quest takes us to an art school where we
find one of the artist’s large-scale works—a construction put together of vast
sheets of raw canvas, metal, and other found materials. It is in the process of
being de-installed.
We go on from the school to another church, this time a cathedral, still searching for the artist’s spirit. The others wander around aimlessly, but I have the sense of knowing where to look, as though I were possessed of psychic powers. I know the artist will reveal his presence to me...
We go on from the school to another church, this time a cathedral, still searching for the artist’s spirit. The others wander around aimlessly, but I have the sense of knowing where to look, as though I were possessed of psychic powers. I know the artist will reveal his presence to me...
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