The spiral does not belong to an external entity. It tumbles toward the boundaries of itself and in its doing so, meets the actual matter. It claims discordance as center. Delusion as function. There is no ground and sky, no edge and core. There is no ordered study of radical alterity, of animals, of spirits. It traverses the material topsoil of language and whirls us towards an incalculable play place where all is existent. Whose histories are these anyway? Whose memories? Whose medicine? Whose degrees of aliveness?
mosie romney sowed these paintings in a barn built in 1860 in rural upstate NY. And in the barn, the ground was reversioned and placed elsewhere. And in the barn, mosie dizzied lies of the world but not in it. And in the barn, empire was chiefed and sovereigned by Yellow Mary, Green Nina, Red Rat. Every spiral has its law. Every unreality has a fossil. But perhaps you will only ever have seen something once. And once and once and once and once and once and once.
– Funto Omojola
