Norman Bluhm
Crustadele
circa 1976
A film of feelings finely lining the face of a star. Grazing the depths of Outer Space, she exhales a light both brilliant and blinding, as fierce as a lemon’s spray. Each drop boosts her imploding life, shedding a fan-like trail out from her tail, so tart and darkly turbulent. From this to that and from here to there, her moods determine her destinations. She sways angrily from right to left, shooting through time without fearing its loss; without sensing its weight; without knowing its name.
