![]() Much like Ron Burgundy bemoans, stuck in a phone booth in the 2004 classic Anchorman, we are all essentially stuck in a glass case of emotion. Our professional, social and leisurely impulses and obligations all pass through thin pieces of glass into machinery and networks far more complex than most of us can comprehend. #GLASS CASE OF EMOTION SERIES#I’m very interested in the writing of Carl Jung and the concept of the collective unconscious, the investigation of mythology and archetypal narrative throughout history, and the convergence of these with my own life, and now that of my children.Īmong a series of truths, the pandemic has made abundantly clear that so much of our lived days are mediated, experienced and augmented by the screens that create and insulate our realities. I’m interested in “fandom” in general and particularly pop culture material like the show that imparts archetypal myths / narratives that people intrinsically relate to. When I was boy I was obsessed with this show and would draw Ultraman all the time, and now as a father am experiencing it again through my son who has become obsessed with the character and makes drawings, his own masks, and collects the same toys that I did as a boy. chaos that are repeated throughout the series as well as the Kaiju monster sci-fi genre in general. I am interested both in my personal history and relationship to the show as a fan from childhood into adulthood, but also the metaphorical and psychological implications of the character's narrative, specifically the ideas of society vs. I use the iconic helmet as a jumping off point to create these compositions. #GLASS CASE OF EMOTION TV#It isn’t the arm, and so we wait, and try to remind ourselves that even the Mets get a good outcome every now and again.For the past two years my practice has focused on the iconic pop culture character Ultraman, and the many affiliated TV shows, movies, manga / comic books, toys, and other ephemera. Which might well be bad: oblique injuries and other maladies can linger, cause a pitcher to unwittingly change his delivery, or otherwise be the first stone in an avalanche. ![]() So now Scherzer will probably head for the confines of an MRI tube, and we’ll wait for updates. The culprit, according to Scherzer, wasn’t his precious UCL but his left side, which went from tight to problematic on that one pitch to Pujols, after which Max opted for caution and departure, never mind the optics or the glass case of emotion in which the viewing audience was trapped until the postgame show. Was Jeremy Hefner saying it was bad? Did Scherzer say he felt something pop? I watched that last slider like it was the Zapruder film, and thought I’d spotted Scherzer pulling his elbow into his side, trying to protect that critical little stretch of ligament from something that can’t be guarded against. Like everybody else, I turned frantically to Twitter’s army of lip readers. Which became the question of the minute, hour and possibly campaign not so long after that - what had happened to Scherzer? My kid, at the game with a friend, texted me immediately for updates I didn’t have. I agreed they did, but couldn’t resist remarking that as a Met fan, when things are going well I look over my shoulder like, ‘Oh God what’s that?’ ” About two hours before Scherzer’s unexpected walk, I was at a work function and conversation came around to how the Mets looked awfully sound. And yet it’s what we do, a habit that for most of us long ago went from superstitious to reflexive. It’s an annoying tic of being a Mets fan that we immediately assume not just the worst but the apocalyptic - we are the franchise of the Miracle Mets, the ball off the wall, Ya Gotta Believe and the unlikely series of events that culminated with a little roller behind the bag that got through Buckner, so there’s been some good fortune along the way. Nope, the lasting image will be from the sixth, when Max Scherzer threw a slider to Albert Pujols and immediately signaled to the dugout that his night was finished - a very un-Scherzer thing to do, one that left a fanbase’s season flashing before its eyes. It turns out they can - if the takeaway from the game isn’t a blast of a homer by Pete Alonso or a hustling triple by happily hale and hearty Brandon Nimmo or a host of hitting to break the second half of the evening’s entertainment wide open. ![]() Can the Mets win by seven and have that feel like an afterthought? ![]()
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