RND/ To consider yet another machine-interchangable, young, white, blandly beautiful, fashionably borderline-anorexic female executive with werewolf eyebrows living rent free in her own skull – basically a credit card with legs – who, (as a barely concealed metaphor for American cultural imperialism) imagines she’s in permanent soft-focus Paris on corporate business for luxury shopping, hot casual French dick and calorie-free croissants.
Wrong. She has in fact landed in the dimensional year 197 Billion, where the caustically brilliant imagination of Polish painter, photographer and sculptor, Zdzisław Beksiński has entirely displaced this breezy, brainless perfumed designer-dogshit Instagram-scrolling Influencer-Reality with raw hyper dystopian surrealist motherfucking DOOM. Emily is now decidedly not in Paris.
In which our tiny heroine just stares blankly out into a strange new universe, impossibly different from the dead movie set of cliches she left behind. Perhaps she imagines some kind of ‘crazy weird’ city-wide art show’s taking place? “Gee, it all looked so different in the tourist brochure.” Click your high heels out of this one, Dorothy, you stupid cow.
// how to play big science