When I see this monkey I think of space. He could be one of Stanley Kubrick’s obelisk rubbing primates. It makes me wonder where this strange traveling monkey came from. He looks so wise and almost exhausted with knowledge. Looking at him from the left you might be conned into believing that he is wearing some kind of soft cap—but no—observing him dead on there can be no mistake. This is a space monkey if ever there was one.
His body consists of well-groomed, uniform, neatly kempt fur. The mouth is an off kilter gash ridged in perfectly even, monkey-white teeth. The lips are parted slightly, like he wants to talk but all that comes out are slights wisps of an inaudible sigh. His secrets are locked down. His experiences have accumulated on the marks of his body. The blue glaze of his outfit is seeping over his fur. Space suit and beast have become indivisible.