I hate it. I despise it. It is my bane, my nemesis, an enemy to be defeated. Every week, when I am forced to visit this chamber of horrors, it stares down upon me, taunting me in its glib way. As I recline on the cold sterile medical bed, it floats above me on the opposite wall, daring me to understand its meaning. As, 3 times each week, they insert the dialysis tubes in my arm, it laughs at my failed attempts to decipher its hidden message. I hate it.
The frame is plastic, as would be expected in a medical facility so as to allow it to be treated with disinfectants and other cleaning solutions on a regular basis. The glass seems dull so I suspect it is a low quality plastic or plexi-glass, perhaps so that it can't be broken and used to commit suicide. It is securely fastened to the wall with 4 screws. I know because I tried one day, while waiting for the dialysis technician, to see if there was any label, any name, or any author attribution on its back.
The picture defies explanation. It has no meaning. It makes no sense. I know that it must have a meaning because no artist could ever simply create without purpose. Pollack used his famous paint drop technique to capture emotion and movement. Although seemingly random, the name given each of his works was indicative of its purpose. From the chaos comes a clearly defined concept. From the randomness comes order.
It is not a map. I have gone to the library and poured over every conceivable map in their collection. I have special ordered collections of foreign maps. I have examined subway maps, false colour photography, animal migration diagrams, geological substrate illustrations, and all with no success. I have considered every view of the earth's surface and systems that is possible to obtain and have come no closer to any kind of understanding.
I do not see it as an abstraction of some everyday object. I have gone through my house looking at everything I own for clues. I have poured cereal on the floor, stepped on it, blended it, and grated it as I attempted to reproduce the shapes and forms. I have spilled every imaginable liquid to try to reproduce the shapes. I have poured coloured oils into water and used surface tensions, Brownian motion, agitation, heating, and cooling to see if I could find a clue as to its meaning.
I must have examined every book on abstract art ever published, sifting through the images and titles for even a hint. It does not seem to represent emotion. There is no apparent relationship with any physical form. I have examined the colours and textures to see if there is any meaning within them. Perhaps they have names that when put together tell a story. I have looked at paint catalogues, browsed art stores, and studied online web-stores to find the names of clothing colours. I thought I had a key when I saw a repeated use of the word "camel" for one of the tones, but no other colour yielded supporting or complementary information.
It is not fractal as far as I can determine because it fails to demonstrate any pattern such as symmetry or scaled reproduction. I have examined the bifurcation diagrams of two and three dimensional non-linear equations and there is no mathematical similarities. I have taken a photo with my iPhone, scanned it, and tried to integrate the various volumes that are depicted. I have examined the colour palette when it is transformed to a GIF image. I have performed LZ compression to look for sequences in the run-length encodings, and all have been futile. Mathematics is not proving to be useful at this time.
Every day, from the moment I wake up, until the moment I retire for the night, I spend my time searching for its meaning. I know it must have one. It is impossible for it not to have some purpose. To create without purpose is an impossibility. That purpose, however indirectly, must somehow be manifested in the picture. I will know what that purpose is and I will extract its meaning before I die. I have sworn it.
Last week I had a friend provide me with a program that compares images and produces a similarity rating. I purchased 3 computers of modest computational ability and installed the software. Now I have them running, 24 hours a day, on every image in the Google image database as accessed by exhaustive serial search of the tbnid field. I can't each lunch or breakfast now so that I can use the money to pay for all the network, hardware, and software costs, but it is worth it to defeat my enemy. No price is too high when it comes to achieving victory.
I will fight on, searching for new techniques, ideas, and methods to defeat my enemy. I will apply every available resource that I have available in the search for meaning. If there is a way, I will find it. If it is humanly possible, I will know what the picture represents.
Last month I moved to a small room that was within walking distance of the hospital. By selling my house and car, I have more funds to pursue my quest. I have moved my retirement savings offshore and will be able to access them as soon as I can move them via a third party transfer, to an accessible account. I will lose a modest percentage in "transfer fees" and risk tax fraud, but in the end I will have my investments at my disposal.
The picture will not defeat me. My mind is sharp and my resources are continually growing. I have many more avenues I can explore. I may need to buy an electron microscope so that I can start comparing it to cellular and molecular structures. Perhaps it is cosmological in origin and matches a nebulae or other stellar entity. I have not considered radiation, such as microwave emission patterns, or wave inference diagrams.
I am constantly drawn back to "camel." Perhaps I need to visit the Middle East to search for clues. It will be expensive and I will need to either purchase a portable dialysis machine, or arrange for foreign treatments, but it may be necessary. I know there is a health risk to travelling, but I will not let my frail body interfere with my quest. I will know - I will - I must - I cannot fail - Failure is not an option.
There is still one tiny challenge I must face, before I can go back to my computers, my room, and my search. Somehow I must persuade them to release me. I am not mad or insane. I am simply curious and bored in life. There was no need to confine me or to have me committed to a mental health facility. But, I am smart and I use their interviews and knowledge of insanity to search for clues. Perhaps the picture is about psychosis, paraphelia, or some spectrum disorder. I will use my time during my stay here to help defeat my opponent.
Perhaps they are all part of some plot to prevent me from success. Perhaps I was closer than I realised. I wait again for the voice that gives me my ideas. It has started to talk to me more often and I find it to be a comfort. The voice knows I will succeed for it tells me so. Oh, I am so tired. I wish they did not keep coming in to give me those injections. I think I will take another nap ...