#(6)WOODWORK:

Edition of 500 of which none are signed.

Some copies printed on newsprint, and others on yellow or blue paper.

1970 Two colors 18" x 24"

Old Australopithecus didn't leave much behind but his calcified bones. From his empty vault we infer certain things, but we don't know what he thought about or whether he thought at all. If he used tools they were likely the flesh of trees, as perishable as his own. We don't know if Southern Ape worshipped a god hewn in his own image. The Old Gods, the gods of forest canopy and cave and veldt, were worshipped in awe and dread in secret hidden places so hard to get to that even now people lose their lives ferreting out those same paths.

Old faceless gods relish the warmth of wood, and are repelled by cold iron. Highly territorial, they don't cross running water, and you can run away from them, or lose them, and they you. Though our great raveled knot may outstrip the lesser wits of Habilis or Neanderthal, we still carry about remnants of their beliefs.

When you get right down to it, steel and electricity and miracle fabrics and cement don't provide you with everything. You need a bit of humanity's true cross somewhere about you to be genuinely comfortable. Oak, ash, hazel, hawthorn and willow are best, but any wood will do nowadays. Knock on wood, it draws out evil the way a poultice draws out infection. Touch wood to avert the misfortune you have foolishly called up by mentioning it. Perhaps we haven't come so far, after all. Pride is still the only sin that counts.