You close your eyes, but the vibrant color remains on the inside of your eyelids, swirling and pulsing. When you open them again it is to a panel of fluorescent lips on the wall, their bright color dripping down. The white teeth contrasted between them make you imagine someone biting down into the flesh of an exotic fruit, or into a neck perhaps, like a technicolor vampire. There is a cocktail in your hand; you don’t know what’s in it, exactly, but it is vibrant and fruity with a plush lemon spread alluringly on the edge of the glass. The edible color reminds you of the artwork on the wall. You move through the crowd to stare back at the captivating gaze of a photographed girl, her arms half-raised in bashfulness or an attempt at being coy, as technicolor tears roll down her cheeks. Her glowing eyes and the smooth lines of hair on her forehead hold your attention; you wonder who she is, and is she this captivating as she goes about her day? Or was it just the photographer who captured her in this extraordinary moment as she boldly stared down the camera.
Her neighbor on the wall is another girl, mascara smeared, and her plush lips parted in ecstasy. She, too, has color smeared down her face, but this time it is just the stark black of running mascara. It is the face of some delicious temptress in satin that you meet at a party when she doesn’t have time to take her makeup off after you bring her home. Her delicate, curled hands frame the lower half of her face, tangled in her cloud of soft pink hair.
You wade through the sea of people’s bodies cloaked in satin, silk and velvet, and stand looking up at the new object of your interest. On sweet bubble-gum pink, a model’s perky black rabbit ears stand at attention. It is at once coquettish and bold. She integrates perfectly with the thrumming of experimental music in the background; a combination that makes you feel drunker than you are. Another sip of the beautiful drink in your hand, and the smooth sugar syrup slides down your throat almost too easily. The girl with the cherry has disappeared, and the cherry has no doubt now been crushed into tiny sweet pieces and swallowed or left at the bottom of the glass with the distant memory of her tongue. The music in the background makes it feel as if the room has a heartbeat; a living, breathing neon entity.
It is easy to imagine the room as one blurred instant of color; leather, leopard print, the metallic sheen of silk, all flowing through the galleries from canvas to canvas. Like exotic hummingbirds tasting the nectar of flower after flower; humanity draw in helplessly by the allure of a single moment captured so perfectly in time and then used as a canvas. The vibe of one moment captured perfectly, to look at forever.
Marko Stout’s “Erotic Allure Volume II” is on view at New York City’s legendary Gallery MC until 08/15/19.
