Commissioned to write this, deadline Saturday, I was just give the title, 'The Scapegallow' // A Scapegallow is 'one who deserves and has narrowly escaped the gallows, a slip-gibbet, one for whom the gallows is said to groan'. I also had to work on a poem for the Tate Modern: Maurizio Cattelan see pic:
"Ave Maria" 2007 Polyurethan, steel, clothes, paint / Polyuréthane, acier, vêtements, peinture 27 1/2 x 4 3/4 inches / 70 x ø 12 cm (x 3) 3/3+2AP
Translated as ‘Hail Mary’, the title seems to contradict the macho power of the salutes, referring instead to the catholic tradition of revering Mary the mother of Christ, who is saluted by the angel in the annunciation. Although this right-armed salute is believed to have originated as a form of military courtesy for the Romans, it became synonymous with right-wing or extremist political movements in the twentieth century. One of the hand is lightly concave, as to gently stroke the head of the visitor. Maurizio wishes in this way to denounce the correspondence between two such contrasting greetings.
And this is what I created: The Scapegallow
There’s a certain breed of Monday where morning comes with fangs, ones so straightouttahell, I imagine the horned one himself, hunched over workbench sanding down the best till its grain reads your name, each a dark dove, Dickensian in devilry; A certain type of 9 a.m. where coffee tars the tongue, high fives hail Hitler and the postman’s whistlesong will strangle you from inside. The Welcome mat will cuff you, the door resist your shoulder, outside the easy limp of wind will whip you like a bitch. If blades of grass that break concrete, their tips stiff as fists, lend none of their rebel strength, drive or sapling hymns and journeying pollen pause just to poison, all this and the front gate is grating at your gait, do as I do: crawl for your sofa, flick for a channel find a thick book, paint, do nothing till Tuesday. Just wait.