Sorcha Dallas

In a Glaswegian salon the head stylist holds a wigged dummie head in front of his customer and snips her own matching hair into shape. Human head and dummie head have exactly the same cut now.

‘There is something in the clear smooth surface of mirror and chromium which makes them a perfect background for the careful and scientific processes that lie at the root of modern beauty,’ his customer reads aloud. Looking at her in the mirror he nods and sighs then teases the hair, peering closely at his work.

And as he teases he daydreams of a world more beautiful and more macabre.

Follow the scientist not the science.

Follow the lips not the kiss.

Follow the lover not the love.

A flicker of colour appears. He looks up and blinks against the piercing light to make out advancing figures. Five girls in a chorus line practice kick step in hooded jewelled jumpsuits. As perfect as yellow stitching down dark blue jeans. Fit, dash and Line Amberina wears her coin dress and shakes her wavy hair. The grace at which she moves is a vivid memory. He looks in the mirror and sees handsome beauty go by. She glides through the place fixed on her destination, her canvas slippers squeaking on the polished floor.

There’s a picture of the Baroness as she poses in profile wearing a neat black helmet, zebra patterned body costume, one arm flung back for emphasis. She stands for the future, for passion, for dancing, for her cult, for the pleasure of things.

Follow the science not the scientist. Follow the kiss not the lips.

Follow the love not the lover.

Into the dream a guy appears, blond hair, dressed in pale blue denim.

He smiles and introduces himself. ‘Come on’ he says, ‘Come on, let’s go watch Dan Graham, videos in the Neue Gesellschaft fur Bildende Kunst library.’