-
Mistaken Communion #5
With the TV set turned off, the medium is the message. Watching becomes an end in itself. 1955
-
Mistaken Communion #4
Bongo looks for signs of a world beyond his cage. Unfortunately, J. Fred Muggs has already retired from television.
-
Mistaken Communion #3
J. Fred Muggs, one of the first American celebrities whose fame derived solely from television, seeks solace in a moment of mistaken camaraderie. Otherwise, he lived entirely surrounded by human beings. 1955
-
Mistaken Communion #2
Tusko, on the other side of the glass, engaged in the business of being watched. 1955
-
Mistaken Communion #1
Tusko the baby elephant prepares to watch the new TV series, Disneyland, featuring scenes from the Disney picture, Dumbo. 1955
-
Talked To Death #5
-
What’s Inside The Box? #2
Houdini’s secret 4th dimensional principal as illustrated by a chihuahua.
-
What’s Inside the Box? #1
Beatrice Houdini illustrates the secret 4th dimensional principal employed by her late husband. 1928
-
Talking Cure #3
-
Talked To Death #4
Accusation and shame sometimes gave way to more sentimental appeals for silence. A forlorn spaniel peers over the back of the chair in which her master once rested after a long day’s work. Once again, the subject of the image stares directly at you. Is there a judgment in the dog’s gaze? An accusation? Her bleary eyes reflect a profound sadness. Her master’s voice has been silenced forever.
You may not be the person whose careless words killed her master, but you are implicated in his death. You have heard this appeal many times — so many, in fact, that this particular message is able to speak in a whisper; the forlorn dog tells an entire story of death and loss, the disruption of a family by a life cut short. By now you know that silence is your moral duty, and yet men continue to die because someone you know continues to talk.
At second glance, this image is as unsettling as the more aggressive images of drowned sailors and femmes fatales. Reproached by a dog? Humbled by a dog’s gaze? Somewhere in America a woman is talking, and her words — uttered thousands of miles from the battlefields — threaten the safety of the troops. The anxiety generated around the threat of careless talk produces paranoid, death-obsessed fantasies, in which silence is a supreme wartime duty and talking is tantamount to treason. How many soldiers actually died because somebody back home talked about troop deployments or ship construction? Was this a real problem or a paranoid instinctr?