As Bill drove the hired Lancia insecurely through the crowded streets … he was stunned by the variety of human personality. All were constructed of molecules, genetically encoded … A street of Saturday morning shoppers, thought Bill, produces more genetic possibilities
than all the stars in the milky way, than the ultimate prime number, yet their obsessions remain trivial – the building society, the bills, the toilet paper and crinklededged oven-ready chips – as though they cannot bear to face the dazzle of infinity.
Only dilettantes try to be universal; a real artist knows that he’s connected with a certain people.
Isaac Bashevis Singer2
By keeping his eyes down, as it were, and concentrating on the minutiae of trivial human interaction, Peter Wilson is able to touch on some fundamental aspects of being alive. His psycho-dramas can be enjoyed simply as ironic autobiographies, but they also function as allegories or moral tales whose deeper, symbolic significance can only be unravelled little by little.
To read the complete essay by Sarah Kent download the PDF here