Handbound and illustrated artist book with vellum image overlay and copmpilation of artist text and quotations from Jerry Mander.

Artist text:
Here was a technology that entered every home in the US, brought imagery nightly into every brain for many long hours, re-organising family life, community life, and political life, human understanding and experience, and through their advertising and their domination of program content, gave corporations an unprecedented degree of centralized power and control.
When people sand they were harmonized -- as music so in life -- a melody, a lullaby, a soothing tenderness, a rhythm, as subtlety
People no longer sing -- the are out of Timken and so are their children. No lullabies, no time, no time, no gentle songs, ugly sounds and ugly noise, incessant barrage.
When people drew they were connected -- they thought their thoughts and their hand responded and learned a style uniquely own.
People no longer draw, they are disconnected from themselves and from life -- someone else does their thinking and they respond like puppets on a string.
When people gardened and cooked they understood life, they understood balance, they understood taste, they understood subtlety, they understood complexity -- parallels, parallels.
People no longer garden they no longer cook, they no longer measure, they no longer intuit, they no longer balance, they no longer understand, they eat what is for sale however dead and tasteless.
When people wove they understood function and acquired serenity, they understood strength and they understood weakness, they understood texture and they understood patience.
People no longer weave and lost that connections to wisdom, the warp and weft of life, parallel functions, parallel nuances, they want the ready made offering them no understanding .
When people danced they participated in joy, grace and sharing, they understood rhythm and they understood harmony and they could see the dance of the cosmos.
People no longer dance, they are atrophied and ungraceful, unbalanced and disconnected, fragmented and lacking in harmony and grace, no song in their hearts or wings in their feet.
When people contemplated the heavens in silence, they touched their own souls.
People no longer have space or time to contemplate the heavens, they are obsessed with the bombardment of noise and stimulants and distractions to keep them from ever touching their souls.
They are the mechanical dead, responding instantly to every stimulant, dreaming nothing, imagining nothing, creating nothing, merely being activated.