I bought six postcards at the Tate Modern last week, each featuring a different artist.
I’ve written a very short story on the back of each one. No, I didn’t realise Jan Carson has already done it.
It’s a fun exercise, so I thought I’d post the results here. This last one features Claes Oldenburg, Lipstick in Piccadilly Circus. Which means I should probably buy some more.
If you’re lonely, and isolated by Coronavirus, and want to get some mail, drop me a line and I’ll post one to you.
Second class, obviously.
Apocalypstick
Her son asked, “What was it like before?”
So she told him.
“Before they arrived, we ‘Tasted the Feeling’ and rejoiced at the ‘Tick Tock, it’s Guinness O’Clock’ sign.“
“Now such celebrations are over. Piccadilly’s Circus Lights don’t draw crowds, they just light up the six Lipsticks of the Apocalypse.“
“First we laughed, thinking it was a prank by Yves Saint Laurent or Mr L’Oréal. Lipsticks designed for giant, unblemished girls, who hung out on the side of buildings.“
“The bodies crushed below swivel cases were ignored and when the wifi stopped working, no one really cared.“
“As time went on, instead of worshipping watches or handbags, we learned to give our devotion to our matching shade.“
“But whether nude, coral, orange or red, the truth was that each tint was made from the tallow of horses that rode the apocalypse, and we turned to evil.”
“So honestly son, not that different.”
Henry Says 