Neverhome

During a visit to the local zoo--a place I find myself often--I rounded a corner and grabbed a photo of this grandmother/grandchild combo as the elder was hiking up her capri pants while looking up toward the ass end of a lioness.

There was something so prosaically "Jeff Wall" about this scene. Grandma's body and posture suggest Duane Hanson's "Supermarket Shopper." Her oversized flesh colored bag is an extension of her own tired physique. The child takes a mechanical pose recalling the very angular girls of Balthus. The two of them might as well be pausing to admire a window display at the local mall.

Humorously the animal, perched atop her artificial rock, finds no dignity in turning away from her peeping Toms. Instead in the distance a small brick chimney rises above her mockingly. There is nothing in any direction that looks, smells, tastes, sounds or feels like the African Savannah. She is permanently in a state of Neverhome.

The overall tableau strikes a nihilistic note. The lion's enclosure is a testament to homo sapiens' earthly dominance over even the King of the Beasts. But this pudgy old boorish woman and her sad little companion as representatives of man's superiority are coming up short. The lion's total lack of interest in her viewers underlines their mediocrity. 

But even the lion disappoints. She issues no commanding roars. She flashes no sharp teeth. Instead she gives up and turns around to show us her business end while she stares at the food court just beyond. It all begs the question: What was the point of it all? Is this what western civilization is for? Did Grandma take her loved one to the zoo so she could stare at a lion's ass? Is the child disillusioned? Can a lion die from boredom?