Eversion by Gregory Logan Dunn. Acrylic on Canvas, 16.625" x 17", 2018.
Peeling back the layers of an onion will only reveal near identical layers of the same stinking fruit, the differences small and minute except for the heart, hard and sometimes green. The heart of a country is harder to find. It is Alpha and Omega but exists throughout it's history, in perpetuity, inevitably and with omnipresence. To find the heart one needs to stand at the center, at the epicenter of the radius, the axel within the wheel. It is the total of you. You are the heart. You are the center. As your countryman is the heart and the center. As is his countryman a part of the whole that makes the center that creates the heartbeat and blood flow of the nation. Now why is the heart sick. Now why are some hearts enraged while others are smiling in shadows. Why are some hearts destroyed while others destroy them. Now the nation must find it's heart. Now it tears through the exoskeleton, the armor of lost luster to reach for arcing sinew that has grown soft and weak. Past bones that are memory stores and creak like broken buildings heavy with abashed shame and buried regret. Pull the ribs like a lever and the body detonates in violent eversion that shows the path of stains. A falling stair of inverted vertebrae traverse an ascent of loss, falling up the hardest road for you walk, Fair Heart. Fair Country. Here the heart is asunder, and here the heart remains. In it's deafening satori, the heart will fail or heal with such scars that will always feel remembered, external layers of a psychotic dream we divine in slumber and die on that cusp at waking not to forget.