M. Castleton’s Tin

His is the shock of being able to see into the future, seeing us gazing back at him and yet (frozen in tin) unable to engage.

We can look him over in a myriad of ways, even flip him over if we like, but M. Castleton cannot move, cannot even blink. We feel sorry for him. In a future near, our brains will be scanned in their entirety, all 100 billion neurons and 100 trillion connections, so that people in the further future (if we could recognize them as that), will be able to fully engage with our holographic avatar universe. In that sense, they will possess our "soul," our every thought and memory we one time held—yet without all the aches and pains, sunken dreams and sorrows. Our "soulmind," will operate perpetually in some petri dish, on a decorative computer chip in the bathroom by the foyer, or on a living room mantle like grandpa’s ashes—an endless tranquil think-tank, a digital universe—caught in our own uniquely familiar, infinite gaze.

This is what we see in the eyes of M. Castleton’s tin. Our children’s children will have children, and their children will feel sorry for us, up there above the mantle and caught suspended as we are, no longer evolving in perpetuity, as will be their custom. Soon enough in the future our avatar universe will not lie merely static, but will continue to flourish with thought and idea—in essence, will continue to “grow” mentally, forever after our corporeal existence has (or maybe hasn’t) passed.

This is what we’ll see in the eyes of M. Castleton’s tin. These are the nebulous thoughts he’ll hurdle forth through time and space. His perpetual deer-in-the-headlights vogue, as he once queried into a primitive soul-catching device, a camera contraption, an early memory gatherer. M. Castleton will be grasping, in one timeless moment, as the aperture dawned and a flash of light blasted, this unlikely if not unthinkable future was right there up in his grill—glaring him in the face.

M. Castleton, 1896 Found tintype, 2014 M. Castleton’s Tin Digital assembly with text, 22 January, 2015 M. Castleton’s Tin is a collaboration between Jay Jurisich and Tennyson Woodbridge and may be reproduced in part or in full, expressly or unexpr…

M. Castleton’s Tin, 1906 - 2015
Found tintype, 2014 + collaborative written history (Jay Jurisich and Tennyson Woodbridge), 22 January, 2015.

M. Castleton’s Tin is a collaboration between Jay Jurisich and Tennyson Woodbridge and may be reproduced in part or in full, expressly or unexpressly for an open period of 75 years; after which point any use is strictly forbidden.

Arley and Sylvia Savage

ARLEY and SYLVIA SAVAGE

Ignoring the strict avalanche warning signs, Arley and Sylvia Savage, as well as their close friend Bob, proceeded toward the basin. Twenty minutes later and buried alive, Arley had a moment to think. 2011, Found photo/vellum/collage, 50x60 cm; pro…

Ignoring the strict avalanche warning signs, Arley and Sylvia Savage, as well as their close friend Bob proceeded toward the basin. Twenty minutes later and buried alive, Arley had a moment to think.

Found photo w vellum collage, 2011 (prose from 1988), 50x60 cm
Copyright © Tennyson Woodbridge, 1963 to present

Stuart Bedford Said Nothing (1985/2014)

Stuart Bedford Said Nothing

Stuart Bedford Said Nothing as his wife came out of the plane and into his arms.Suddenly Stuart recognized an old friend. "Stan! Stan Goldsmith—how are you? I knew you'd turn up somewhere but what are you doing here?""I'm on vacation," Stan replied,…

Stuart Bedford Said Nothing as his wife came out of the plane and into his arms.
Suddenly Stuart recognized an old friend. "Stan! Stan Goldsmith—how are you? I knew you'd turn up somewhere but what are you doing here?"
"I'm on vacation," Stan replied, looking at Stuart's wife. "This must be your lovely wife."
"Oh yes, this is my wife Audra. She's just returned from Chicago."
"Chicago? I just came in from Chicago. We must have been on the same plane—though I can't see how I wouldn't have noticed you."
Stan winked as Audra gave a short smile. She recognized him as the man who'd asked for a second meal over Denver.

Stuart Bedford Said Nothing
Photograph, October, 2014; prose from 1985
Copyright © Tennyson Woodbridge, 1963 to present

Summer in Pavlovsk

Everyone was tired, as usual, everyone's eyes had grown heavy overnight, everyone was chilled, everyone's face was pale yellow, matching the color of the fog...Fyodor Dostoevsky: The Idiot

Lizaveta Prokofyevna (1926/2015)

Lizaveta Prokofyevna (1926/2015)

Three Daughters_Три дочери Епанчиной (1926/2015)Copyright © Tennyson Woodbridge, 1963 to present

Three Daughters_Три дочери Епанчиной (1926/2015)
Copyright © Tennyson Woodbridge, 1963 to present

Епанчиной_1 (1926/2015)Copyright © Tennyson Woodbridge, 1963 to present All appropriation rights reserved

Епанчиной_1 (1926/2015)
Copyright © Tennyson Woodbridge, 1963 to present All appropriation rights reserved