Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
Four days after I arrived in Poland, the largely Catholic country was celebrating Corpus Christi, complete with solemn processions down the street. Three days later I had made a solemn vow that if given the chance to express it, I would show love to a woman I had only just met.
I had come to Europe to document people practicing naturism. Preliminary arrangements had been made to meet with an Egyptian nudist visiting the Continent and there was some kind of Pan-European gathering scheduled to take place in Croatia. I had arranged for an assistant to come along with me to help with anything I needed, but when her passport was stolen the night before we were supposed to leave, my plans went awry. I decided on something less ambitious. I would visit a naturist sauna in the city of Bielsko-Biala, Poland which I had just found on the internet. When I got there, I met Margo.
I had an American passport. She didn't. And the fact that I was driving a car with Polish license plates gave her ample opportunity to point out the difference. It wasn't just police and border guards who ethnically profiled me. Regular folks did it too. One campsite owner didn't shake my hand until he realized I was an American. By that point, I had trained myself to use a simplified English, something that more closely resembled what passes for a lingua franca in Europe these days. Something Margo was trying very hard to master.
I've never been married. I've never been divorced. I've never had kids. I've never lost my kids. That doesn't mean I can't try to understand somebody who has. By listening to Margo during our trip across Europe I started to consider her needs as if they were my own. I may not have been in a position to satisfy all of those needs, but I was able to shut up and put my own needs aside if I had to for at least 6,000 miles. We all need to be listened to and it is the one need that we all have a duty to satisfy. When somebody prays to another human, as a human you have a duty to listen. Humanity needs to start teaching itself that skill.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: Large Wall Art
Art is the expression of an idea. Often that idea is simply the form of the expression itself, the beautiful or not-so-beautiful shape of an otherwise meaningless gesture. This is decorative art. It encompasses everything from origami to cheap romance novels. It is popular and if you want to put a decorative print on your wall, you can buy one at a place like Ikea.
Most artists with ambition create documentary art, meaning the ideas embedded in their work relate to something beyond the undulations of their expressiveness. Instead of just making a new twist, they try to make that twist seem extra clever. It means something beyond being just a twist. In the most obscene cases, an artist won't even tell you what it means and suggests you figure it out for yourself. No other profession gets away with this. It's like a prostitute who says he's not sure if he does anal.
I try not to be clever. Trying to be clever is what I used to do when I was a child and I wanted attention. I try to be right. I try to discover the truth and pass it along. I try to trust my own judgment.
I've read most of the Bible. It's not a code of laws or something you put on your coffee table because it looks nice. It's one of the greatest documentary works of art ever compiled. When common people started reading it, the Reformation happened. Not everybody read the whole thing, nor did they necessarily understand what they did read, which is why not everything got reformed in the right direction. In their defense though, some parts of the Bible aren't even written in the right way. We all make mistakes. It doesn't mean we shouldn't keep working towards the right reform. That is the idea at the basis of the best art. It's the idea that I'm going to keep repeating because I am too old to be clever.
Pronunciation of Large Wall Art
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "large wall art."
Video of me pronouncing "large wall art."
Definition of Large Wall Art
I have yet to publish the definition of Large Wall Art.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for large wall art
I have yet to find good references for Large Wall Art
Samples of Fiction from Michal's Corpus
Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.
A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.
Frame #4346
why would mcdonalds be broke. if hes alive and walking free its cause hectors dead. and mcdonalds killed him. he should be wallowing in cash.
An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.
Jesus walked across the street. When he was standing right behind the Krupnik, he hesitated. There was a moment where he wasn't quite sure what to do. Then, the Krupnik leaned his head back in comfort. The pleasure of a good pee was Jesus's motivation. Raising his left hand, he swung down and across and jabbed his prey's larynx. There was a gargling sound as the Krupnik threw his head and shoulders and his whole torso forward. Jesus smashed them into the wall. The Krupnik fell down; his body was crumpled and motionless. "That was easy," Jesus said. "Like cake." Looking for a wad of cash, he found one that was clearly smaller than the one which he had seen previously. Nevertheless, it was still a wad. Jesus thanked him and walked away, down Linden Flower Road. He didn't run; he walked. When he got to the Church, he climbed up the stairs and went through the block. At the corner, he looked into Town Square and waited for the Irishman to leave. When he did, Jesus went to his building, unlocked the door, climbed the stairs and went to bed. Before he fell asleep, he heard the sound of sirens.
Jesus put his fingers inside her. She moaned, squirming around and bucking. This lasted for a while and didn't end till Jesus grew more and more conscious of something slightly abrasive. Not knowing what it was, he tried to figure it out. There were granules inside your mother. He was moving granules against her inner walls. Jesus was confused. Why were there granules inside your mother? Then he realized it was sand. Sand! There was sand inside your mother's vagina! Jesus laughed. Removing his fingers, he couldn't help but chuckle uncontrollably. Your mother must have been confused for a moment, but once Jesus wiped his fingers on her belly, she understood. She also started chuckling. There was sand inside her vagina! Just like the good old days.
In those days, there was a copy of the Black Madonna circulating around lower Silesia. The Black Madonna, being the most important Catholic icon in Poland (and especially resulting from her gracious favor in times of war), was, in those days, like so many times before, the lone object of a nation's most urgent prayers. 'The Queen of Poland' she was called. Every night, at nine o'clock, the nation joined with monks from Bright Hill, where monastery walls had protected her shrine for centuries past, and, together, we sang:
One time, I successfully defended myself against a hooligan. In the middle of the night, I was once awakened by the stampings and shouts of a group of late-night rabble-rousers. They were climbing up my apartment building's main stairwell. Outside my door, they began ripping apart various pictures from the walls. They were cheap pictures, mostly posters, but I was very angry for being awakened. Going to the kitchen, I grabbed a large knife and lemon, and, going to the front door, I opened it. Leaning against the doorframe, I saw my provokers' faces. It was my upstairs neighbor's eldest son ripping off paintings from the wall. There was an older boy with him, along with his baby boo and some other ugly girl, perhaps the older boy's girlfriend. They all ran down the stairs. My neighbor was left alone. Ever so slowly, I began slicing my lemon. My neighbor came up to me - not too close, but close enough to be 'in my face.' My knife was pointed right at his gut.
A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.
When I left the bathroom and dressed, a bizarre experience (that clearly should have given me forewarning) was not enough to break this innocent trance. Luke was late, and my hair still wet. I could not find a hairdryer, so I went down the hall to the next wing, looking for a students' bathroom, hoping I could find something to use. All I found was a hand dryer wall unit - not the most suitable device for drying one's hair. But I had to use it.
We were standing in a nice corner. The walls around us were high and windowless. Concrete was crumbling and cracking itself. There was a lot of rusted metal. The ground was littered. "You know what I like about big cities? I like these kinds of places: the buttholes and the bellybuttons." There was even some neglected shrubbery around us. It was bordering the crumbling concrete steps upon which Luka was seated. I placed my foot beside his on the lowest one. I started balancing my leg. I thought of the stairs outside our old apartment. I thought of the opium dealer - as a character from a New Comedy, with Luka, the poor yeoman; Anicetus, the corrupted son of an equis; and me, Andreas: the lowly manservant, the torch-bearing slave.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 14, Referencing the Past, Paragraph 16
As he was leaning against the walls of the cloister, Nike slid down to the ground, collapsing on the street like a beggar. That very night, he went to the nearest church: by the name of St. Ignatius.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 6, The Sixth Day, Part 1, Children & Education Reform, Section 6, Encountering Chastity, Paragraph 5
NIKE: Why am I here? I'm here to protect you. No, I'm sorry, I was walking because I, uh, left my wallet actually, here, um, during the day, and I, uh, didn't realize until a few hours ago, you know, after it got dark - but the thing is: I knew exactly where I had left it: can you imagine? I knew exactly, so, I had my friend drop me off and I went to get it. I have it now: I found it. But, uh, why are you here?
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 22, Encountering Poverty, Paragraph 70
A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.
Shephard agreed to settle for the desert highway. As they drove down it, they could see sand stretching to infinity. The fifty-yard-deep walls of shrub on either side seemed comically insufficient. The driver wouldn't shut up about them. "Nobody think we can do it," he said. "Everybody in West say, 'You crazy.' Chinese man do it. We give proof to world of great superiority of China technology innovation. We develop over three hundred technique to build road. Three hundred. You see.
"Go ahead," said the secretary. The man disappeared through the door. The woman turned to look through the window. Oda Plaza kept rotating below her-behind her. "Whatever," she thought. The people, fifty yards away, seemed to be walking on a giant wall. Few offices had the luxury of terrestrial gravity. Apparently, thought the woman, Justice Doc Uzumaki deserved one of the best.
On the other side of the door, Pat said, "You wanted to see me."
Shephard and Clark ran to their camels. The imam appeared in the portal. He was shaking his fist. Clark and Shephard rode west. At the end of the wall, they turned north. They reached the end of the complex. Ridges of sand rose in every direction. A tunnel carved its way toward the desert. Another tunnel led back to the mosque. The imam emerged at its mouth. He was still shaking his fist. Shephard kicked his heels into his camel.
One day, after a hard game of netball, Dorothea went to the girls' locker. She always waited until most of the people had left. She needed to make sure the private shower was unoccupied. With the water off, she started soaping herself. She realized she had once more forgotten to buy a new curtain. This one only came down to her knees.
A pair of giggling women came rushing into the otherwise empty room. Dorothea sat on the seat. She lifted up her legs, resting them against the wall. She didn't want anybody to see them.
A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.
LESBIAN: How would he feel if he saw us?
MS. JACKSON: What does it matter?
LESBIAN: It does.
MS. JACKSON: Why?
LESBIAN: I don't want hurt him either.
MS. JACKSON: Is that what you're afraid of? Are you afraid of what people might say?
LESBIAN: That's ridiculous.
MS. JACKSON: Are you afraid of having to stay here on Norfolk?
LESBIAN: I'm not afraid of anything.
MS. JACKSON: Neither am I. I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not afraid of arson or gossip or what people might say if they knew about us. I've been set free from all of those things. I'm no longer afraid of being hurt. Oh, Homo! Do you know what I suffered? It was worse than any prison. The walls were all around my heart. It was like being perpetually pinched. I am grateful to you for saving me from all of that pain. You showed me freedom.
– ACT I, lines 899-908
(KOKOMO moans again.)
MS. JACKSON: There it is again.
LESBIAN: I heard it.
MS. JACKSON: It sounds like-
KOKOMO: (off) It's so big!
MS. JACKSON: Kokomo!
GREY GOOSE: (off) Don't worry. It'll fit.
MS. JACKSON: Grey Goose!
KOKOMO: (off) Just stick it in there.
GREY GOOSE: (off) Patience, my dear. I don't want to tear your walls.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
"It wasn't easy. We didn't have a refrigerator. All I had was some cellophane from a piece of candy Reinhard bought me. By December twenty-fifth, that last bit of apple was completely black. It was covered in a fluffy mold. Reinhard didn't think I could swallow it. I proved him wrong."
Indiana said, "Courage triumphed rather than magic."
Proctor found the key. He decided a man carrying a carpet was probable cause. He entered the apartment. It didn't take long to find a photo. It was vic number three. Proctor called in the cavalry. He ordered a search. His phone rang. It was the captain. "Vic number two's fingerprints were in the database," He said. "He got busted for cocaine three years prior. I talked to his bondsman. Says an artist by the name of John Gamble put up security for him." At the sound of the name Proctor audibly swallowed. He wondered if the captain had heard.
Proctor backed out of the bathroom. He looked at the window. There was a fire escape outside. It went up to the loft. Proctor went to look outside. He realized the window was unlocked. He locked it. He shut the curtain. He walked to the front door. He looked outside. The hallway was empty. Proctor tiptoed out. He tried to shut the door as quietly as he could. It wouldn't shut all the way. The frame was broken. Proctor left it. He started soft-shoeing his way down the hall. He could barely swallow his spit. There was a rock in his throat. The stairs seemed like they were getting farther and farther. He finally reached them. The stairwell was empty. He walked down the stairs. The lobby was empty. Proctor took a deep breath. He went outside. He waved to the policeman in the patrol car. He got to his own car. He drove off.
Proctor put back the letter. It didn't mention his name. He looked around. The wall was gleaming. He went to it. He touched it. Wet paint. He looked around. There were specks of red on the floor. Blood. There were more specks. Leading towards a door. Proctor pulled his gun. He went to the door. He opened it. A bathroom. Proctor turned on the light. A body in the tub. Floating in a pool of red. John's husband.
If a 45-year-old businesswoman and hard working mother of three kids is going to pose nude for a calendar, it's gonna have to be a good one. Margo didn't start a coffee shop called the Vagina Cafe to win her favors from the establishment. Even as she dishes out prizes to the 20 women who placed last in the twentienth anniversary run of her town's biggest road race, her business, unlike everyone else, doesn't get mentioned. She was an official sponsor for Christ's sake! But the announcer just couldn't swallow his patriarchy and get the words "Vagina Cafe" out of his mouth. That's not something a proper gentleman would say in front of a crowd of humble God-fearing "ladies" who cherish their modesty! And a Body Acceptance Calendar is certainly not what a humble God-fearing book-seller like a Barnes and Noble would put on their shelves! So how do I expect to sell this in the mainstream? Maybe if you download the free versions a thousand billion times it might help. Start downloading.
Your help keeps the "Large Wall Art" page...
If you love women and art...
Michal's importing art...is he wacky?
Michal's Sales Pitch Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts
T-shirt fundraiser for sale
Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed.
From a set of, I believe, twenty produced by Margo and given out to a portion of the last 20 women to finish the 20th anniversary Fiat Road Race in Bielsko-Biała, cf. the movie. This is the last one left in it's original packaging and my supporters - like the poor women of Bielsko - are going to have to fight for it. Whoever invests the most money with me, and who lets me borrow it to invest in the next lot, will not only be rewarded with some beautiful piece of art, but will get this priceless t-shirt as a reward for being my top supporter. $1000.00 or best offer. Remember to authorize me to hold the sum as credit against a future purchase and to authorize me to borrow against it.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #1 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt handbag for sale
Felt bag by Dorota.
Entirely hand-sewn. Base: polyester felt, 100% PE. Motif: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Unique and inimitable design. Inside: cotton fabric, closes with zipper, inside pocket. Available now for $220.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #2 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Decorative collar for sale
Decorative collar by Zuzanna.
Ethnic layered cloth jewelry constructed on a cotton base and adorned with ribbons, tassels, and a yellow fringe. Fastened on the side with 11 buttons, fitted entirely with a pleasant lining. The style is an Indo-Asian-African multinational color combination. The collar is very extravagant and an extraordinary addition to any clothing, guaranteed to attract attention. Just a simple dress and a unique image is ready. Dry-cleaning recommended. Available now for $200.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #3 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Seamless handbag for sale
Handbag by Sylwia.
Handmade from felted all-natural Australian and South American wool. Entirely felted, seamless. Finished with a white lining, inside is a small pocket. Lining is sewn and stitched in by hand. Available now for $180.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #4 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Patchwork quilt for sale
Patchwork quilt by Alicja.
Bedspread made of cotton and polyester material. Inserted with polyester lining. 90 by 70 cm. Available now for $120.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #5 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Nuno-felt shawl for sale
Shawl by Sylwia.
Scarf made with the nuno felting technique (wet felting fibre into a silk gauze) using South American wool. Two-sided scarf with latticework at the ends. Wholly in the colors red, black, green in an abstract pattern. Available now for $100.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #6 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Clara the doll for sale
Clara by Alicja.
Clara loves roses and greenery, adores tormenting spiders with long legs and sleeping soundly in the afternoon. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #7 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Noah the doll for sale
Noah by Alicja.
Noah doesn't know what to like and what not to like but keeps wondering and thinking about it. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #8 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Black suspenders for sale
Black suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders from black material with a rose motif on one side and striped cotton on the other. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #9 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Orange suspenders for sale
Orange suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and orange material with a Polish floral folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #10 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Green suspenders for sale
Green suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and green material with a mountain folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #11 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt earrings for sale
Felt earrings by Dorota.
Material: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Pendant of anti-allergenic metal. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #12 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Round ceramic earrings for sale
Round ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #13 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Oblong ceramic earrings for sale
Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #14 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
'Coral' necklace for sale
Corals by Sylwia.
Necklace made of cotton pieces with organdy and decorated with beads, suspended on cotton strings. Can be worn as a necklace, as a brooch or as a belt tied at the side. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #15 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
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