An Eye for Imaginary Vision

Eyes are the window for the brain to visually grasp its surroundings.  I don’t know if anybody in particular quoted that line, but if they did, I just ripped it off like the Muppet wallpaper that barely clung to a bedroom wall and psyched itself up to do a “tuck ‘n roll.” When a statement such as that just throws itself into my arms as if it’s a diva on a day time drama, what is one supposed to do?  Toss it aside like Randy Moss does with his talent during each down? Of course not.  When you have a full tank of gas in the car that is a result of "pay it forward", only one thing comes to mind:  Roooooad Triiiip!

Lately, optical illusions have been doing the pop-in from time to time and spending the night on the couch with great expectations of getting a plug in one of my blogs.  We worked out a deal recently that if I did what they demanded they would stop eating me out of house and home, stop ordering costly pay per view channels and stop the hogging of night and weekend minutes on my cell phone.  Don’t ever have an optical illusion write an agreement; they’re experts on enclosing a hidden agenda in a play on words and pictures.  How do I know this?  They are better known as the David Copperfield of pictures.  Little magicians who dazzle the eyes with their imagery swagger.  Still-framed pictures that are self-taught in pulling the wool over one’s eyes. They package deceit and protect it with those little shipping Styrofoam popcorn balls and delivered to the eye thanks to Fed Ex.  We’ll sign for it by gazing at the depiction and letting the illusions sweet talk our eyes into letting them into our brains.  I sat in on a counseling session once when Dr. Phil diagnosed these as being the “pathological liars” of pictures.  A two-faced persona of the staring object as it puts earphones over the eyes and captivates them into some seductive sort of trance.  They are the one-man show to the visual sense—the clown, juggler and knife thrower on the street corner of a picture all wrapped up into performance.  They cause the brain to knock on the doorway of the eye and demand a urine test for signs of drug use since hallucinations are a second cousin.  Visual reality held hostage by phony imagery and its hypnotized hold on the eye to subtle singing of the lyrics, “Tell me lies…Tell me sweet little lies.”  Crafty as Bernie Madoff and witty as a colorful commentator, they are the scam artists in the world of art; poking that pupil for all it’s worth.