Suicide Art

There are secret streets and secret worlds. There are secret names encoded in the graffiti on toilet walls and in the chalk outlines of suicide victims. Little girls and boys play hop-scotch on grids marked out in dust upon the concrete flesh of the playground. There are occult sympathies in the rituals that children perform, protecting them from harm, or so they think. Similarly one can chart the progression of time towards the end of all things, as it moves towards and away from the observer. Sometimes, if one were so inclined, it is possible to tabulate the vicissitudes of the stock market in the patterns of suicides, the angles of escape from the terminal shadow of reality a ‘jumper’ takes as they fall. Perhaps one could perform a sociological analysis of the existential status of the actor from the impact patterns in the pavement beneath a ‘jumper’s’ chosen window. It’s all in the window you know? They might seem to be chosen at random, but there is a technique here. Deconstructing the self, bypassing the illusion of coherence. It’s not a precise science, as much art as technical endeavour, but the signs are there to be read and interpreted. The telemetry of the suicide artist perhaps?