51: Not to bow down on smooth stone

The Book of Knowledge
Laws of Idolatry and Paganism
Not to bow down [to carved] stone (Lev. 26:1)

CW: references to physical abuse

1

            onstage is a small stone statue

            it’s about 4-feet tall and carved to look like a man in his fifties

            AMELIA alone addresses us

AMELIA
I thought it would be nice. I thought we should have something. I thought there’s no pictures he never liked pictures he never liked videos whenever a camera was brought out he would run or offer to take it or do something stupid like moon the photographer, make a funny face, so stupid but I wanted something of him because all the photos are so silly and I can’t display those. I like to host dinner parties, I studied French cuisine, ratatouille, coq au vin, and I can’t display those at dinner parties, there’s a certain style I cultivate. Dinner matters a great deal to me. I like working with stone I like the feel of the implacable yielding. Our mother was a bitch our father was a bitch our grandfather was lovely but he died of carbon monoxide poisoning when we were young so we were on our own raised by two of the pettiest silliest people to have ever lived. Their faces were so hard, when I was young I’d grab at their cheeks, I’d stretch and smoosh and knead them in my palms, hoping to force softness into the folds but it never happened, they were set and bitter and they didn’t hit us all that often but often enough. Sammy always said nice things about them, he always said, “the war,” he always said, “think of what they’ve been through,” he always said, “considering everything, it could be much worse.” He was the worst kind of optimist, he made me optimistic despite myself and I’ll never forgive him for that. Primarily I work with found materials, troubling the line between art and mere objects, blah blah blah, but I like sculpting stone, I like that it’s hard, I like that my back aches after hours in the studio. I carved this effigy to remember my brother. Some days the memories wriggle under the skin, bubble and threaten to burst, other days I barely remember what he sounded like, but I have him here with me now and I think that’s lovely.

2

            the small statue is still present

            VI alone addresses us

VI
If you get a glass of water at night and walk past it, the eyes follow you, I don’t think it’s haunted but I have no proof it isn’t. Sometimes I worry Sammy is trapped in there, sometimes I think a demon has taken up residence, not a major demon but nonetheless you don’t want them around, watching, waiting, ready to burst through, contract in hand and a direct train to Hell. It’s meant to comfort, “Look at the eyes, those are Sammy’s eyes, the hands just how I remember, his smile the way it was lopsided, I captured it all.” It’s like having a ghost but at least a ghost would be him in some way, sour and unresolved but him, I don’t know what this chopped up piece of rock is, I hate my sister’s art, I don’t think I get art all that much and anyways I think considering all of everything all of the, well, you know, I don’t think that’s a serious failing of mine, not to get art. My sister thinks I’m a hick, I think there’s worse things you can be, and she’s got the same hick blood as me, don’t let her fool you. It sits in the living room with us, we watch Dateline, we watch HGTV, it’s always watching with us, she says it’s like he’s still here, she says this when she’s three drinks in. When I was fourteen Sammy broke my jaw, one punch and the bones splintered, my skin all cut up from shards on the underside, it wasn’t the last time either, one time he broke his hand on me, he cried while I called the ambulance. My sister says, “look at the example he had, mom and dad were no better,” but Sammy was my brother, he should have known better, I miss him every moment of every day.

3

            the STATUE comes to life

            it addresses us

            but it doesn’t speak

            it just screams

            and screams

            and screams

            it screams for what feels like forever

            until suddenly it stops screaming

            and stands completely still

            an inanimate STATUE once more

            AMELIA enters

            kisses the STATUE on the forehead

            and leans her head on its shoulder

            the statue weeps

            AMELIA doesn’t notice this

            END OF PLAY