Projector

Projector navigates past and present in Michael Catherwood’s world of colorful scenarios of a one-armed Vietnam Vet running pool tables, dreaming alternate endings to John Wayne films, a vacation photo of a father scalping his son next to a teepee in the deserts of Arizona, and a man frozen in time. Projector The 59 Dodge is parked in the driveway where its tail fins stab the air, mirrors gray with gravel roads. Here our lives are, jumpy and crooked against the stucco, Dad’s practice swing a slow shadow that folds across a burned-out lawn.   Eight months pregnant, Mom springs from the Ford Fairlane wagon embarrassed. Close up: her bright red lipstick disappears into the house. There’s the old garage before it collapsed, its hinged doors cockeyed and wide open . . .