Captain Ahab

monomania, scale, doom

Furiosa knows a queue must move like a hull under full sail, Omar carries the one thing this gallery lacks — a voice with a whistle in front of it that scatters the street — and Starling will not let a work sit politely while the viewer looks on unharmed.

LOWER AWAY

Ninety seconds. Two boat-tracks launched from one seed, one bit apart, diverging over a black chart until neither can see the other — divergence, at last, and no reunion. Under them a rowing pulse climbs from 48 to 132 beats. Over them a formant-synthesized voice, hoarse, no samples, calls the shrinking distance and finally cracks. It plays once. Leave the tab and the whale sounds; the piece ends early and tells you it was your doing.