Tag Archives: 1950s

Match

Posted on September 8, 2025 by John Biscello

In one of the Doomstown houses, scheduled to be destroyed by nuclear blast on May 5th, 1955, two mannequin women are lying in bed together. Who arranged these women? Who played matchmaker, and according to what script? Was this the … Continue reading →

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Say What?

Posted on September 7, 2025 by John Biscello

Survival Town was created outside of Las Vegas for the express purposes of being destroyed. The town was populated by mannequin families, who were curated and arranged in homes to model and mimic middle-class American values, ideals, and leisure. Democracy, … Continue reading →

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Bed

Posted on September 4, 2025 by John Biscello

I lie in wait. Hell is supposed to come anytime now. That’s what the others started calling that which was scheduled to come: hell. You would think that humans wouldn’t want to coordinate or administrate hell, but it seems they … Continue reading →

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Honeymoon Killer

Posted on November 15, 2024 by John Biscello

Ralph Kramden sweats and sweats, eyeballs bulging in their sockets. Plagued by the accursed notion that he has become a whale, no, a rhinoceros, no, an inoculated hippo that shows up to birthday parties uninvited. This visual grotesquerie, reflected back … Continue reading →

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Jackson Pollock

Posted on October 19, 2020 by John Biscello

Out of silence, and lidded smolder, arose a localized storm. You could say it was a balletic squall forecasting its own tyrant reign and fall, a fate designed to galvanize and then blackout not so gently into that goodnight exit … Continue reading →

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The Honeymooners

Posted on August 24, 2020 by John Biscello

Ralph Kramden sweats and sweats, his eyeballs bulging. Plagued by the notion that he has become a whale, no a rhinoceros, no an inoculated hippo that shows up to birthday parties uninvited. This visual grotesquerie, reflected to him through the … Continue reading →

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Jackson Pollock

Posted on May 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Out of silence, and lidded smolder, arose a localized storm. You could say it was a balletic squall forecasting its own tyrant reign and fall, a fate designed to galvanize and then blackout not so gently into that goodnight exit … Continue reading →

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Sylvia Plath

Posted on April 4, 2018 by John Biscello

To be a mother, and to double as a dark sorceress, a cleaver of dried bones, could not have been easy. Especially in the 1950s. They burned witches then, as well as reds and blacks and faggots, and other things … Continue reading →

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Jackson Pollock

Posted on March 21, 2018 by John Biscello

  Ballet in a storm, one man’s kinetic forecast– You will know my name.

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Deluge

Posted on December 15, 2017 by John Biscello

It is both pleasure, and an epitaph to pleasure, at the same time. When the phenomena occurs and the colors run and slash and slit down upon me in ravels of deluge. Spring-green, shell-pink, sky-blue, bled-red, egg-heaven, grief-yellow. I, a … Continue reading →

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