So we worshipped at the altar of model. It was like blowing the dust from the cover an old book that no one had bothered to engage, assuming it was all written, only to open it and find that the words were unsettled, ethereal, too secure in their unquestioned languishing to mean anything in particular at all. Money, institution, market, globe - the terms flickered like candle flame, half real.
When rescued from the attic and brought once again to the ground floor, to be realized, the models turned on like zoetrope machines, shooting out tethers to bring the surround along in their uncanny circles. They were entangled, creating, in their abstraction, material effects (maybe they were more material for being abstract). Down from their throne, they seemed eager for play, for new games of reciprocity with the world in its gossiping momentum. Money, institution, market, globe.. these kaleidoscope projections were after all mere machines, here on the ground with us. We went to tinkering.
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