Apparitionism, International Art Movement

At the Kingston village summer fete, 1980, I won a digital clock in the raffle. I had never seen one before. Its LED display was spellbinding. I could not hold in my mind how the 4 mitred into a 5, how the lower part of the 2 traversed to the right side without moving, making 3. The numerals were green and fuzzy, but I would continually press my finger down onto them, and stare at a reflection of my own eye widening and blinking amid, or just beyond, the iridescent clots. In the alarm mode it played the opening to Mozart's 40th symphony. The monophonic sound blended seamlessly with the shrill calls of lapwings at dawn.

I often think of that dark eye, my own eye, that eye with forlorn lashes, looking in at me from a different dimension, and when I see my own image reflected in the glass that covers a print, I remember how I felt as a 9-year-old boy, the beginning of Apparitionism.