There is a painting by Klee called Angelus Novus. An angel is depicted there who looks as though he were about to distance himself from something which he is staring at. His eyes are opened wide, his mouth stands open and his wings are outstretched. The Angel of History must look so. His face is turned towards the past. Where we see theappearance of a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe, which unceasingly piles rubble on top of rubble and hurls it before our feet. He would like to pause for a moment so fair, to awaken the dead and to piece together what was smashed. But a storm is blowing from paradise, it has caught itself up in his wings, and is so strong that the Angel can no longer close them. The storm drives him irresistibly into the future, to which his back is turned, while the rubble-heap before him grows sky-high. That which we call progress, is this storm.
- Walter Benjamin, On the Concept of History (1940) 
The telephone, the scientific toy, the carrying case, the radio, the fuel pump of yesteryear: such are the past signs of obsolete material culture, part of the rubble-heap of history, that intrigue Daniel A. Henderson. The original evidential artifacts on which his sculptures are based, were you to see them, are ordinary. At the same time each object tells a story of a life having been lived. These objects and devices were part of routinized daily living in the twentieth century. They carry the imprint of sociability, possession, relatedness, affiliation and attachment.
The artist, a professional inventor in the telecommunications industry, has an innate and keen understanding that commodity relations has to do with human relations, such as they are. Unsurprisingly, Henderson feels connected to issues of connection and its relation to disconnection; for the past several years he has engaged on an ambitious sculptural project that refers to technology, its history, its effects and its anxieties. He writes:
“ Technology connects us interculturally through the material language of objects yet somehow divides us interpersonally. My art is my way of exploring this condition.” 
Daniel Henderson’s eight original artifacts have been shape-shifted and transformed into sculptural artworks in astonishing ways. Size plays a big part of it. So do materials. Housecall, Sculptura, Fossil Fuel, Brick 2, Marconi, Black 500, Princess, and Viewmaster appear to be upscaled (with the exception of life –sized Housecall and Fossil Fuel) completely faithful replicas of the originals. This is an illusion. None of the works are 100% perfect renditions of the original objects, yet they are marvels of near-exact verisimilitude. Each artwork has a jewel-like precision to it, the result of hundreds of hours spent in crafting, modifying and readying the artwork for its public appearance. The challenges of selecting, fabricating, and the fitting of components, testing to see how precisely the individual machined sections and parts could be integrated with stone so as to appear seamlessly and naturally as a new translated “body” (recalling the original artifact on which it was modeled) were daunting. Precision cutting, hand-assembly, and most importantly, hand-finishing and polishing of the carved or cast forms (in Housecall) were areas of concentration that contributed to having each artwork have the right presence. As he was not trained professionally as an artist the experience of contending with aesthetic form has been a satisfying, if steep, learning curve. Henderson has related how in Brick 2, his first sculpture, he had to contend with the “unforgiving, slow medium of stone.”  While most of Henderson’s creations have Brobingdanian sizes the artist has taken great pains for his sculptures to attain a hallucinating realistic look; such play of mimetic verisimilitude has taken into account subtle and not so subtle modifications of the original artifact that have been introduced to create an aesthetic experience for the viewer. Most obviously, for example, none of the original objects were stone and none had a pattern that the final stone piece ended up having. The sculptor adds an inconspicuous plaque with a barcode to each piece that spells out the title of the piece in “bar code language.” The eight works were devised in digital ateliers, machined and fabricated using the latest technological tools available: laser-scanning turntables, stereolithograpy, laser milling, CNC machines and robotic routers. Henderson terms his approach to sculpture in which he uses the latest and most advanced technologies to help fashion objects referring to life-styles and simpler technologies of the past “digital devolution.”
The sculptor’s re-presented old objects are conspicuously and deliberately re-imagined as totemic monuments made of imperishable materials. Through our experiencing the work we encounter long-lasting testaments to a culture of the throwaway, of the disposable, of overabundance and waste. Henderson is making sculptures that are homages to the memories of fleeting enjoyments: speaking to one’s child on the phone, listening to a broadcast program on the radio, filling up in preparation for a long deserved vacation trip. The artist’s gargantuan re-envisionings works on us: we marvel, we are appalled. It is precisely this uneasy, admixtured mental space that Henderson wants to put us in. His sculptures, presented on plinths, are commemorative in intention. These extraordinarily finished sculptures are presented as auratically and uniquely special. And yet when all is said and done our rarified experience depends on admitting that each artwork is derived from an everyday object of times past. Homeliness had somehow attained a new cultural status through exaggeration that lifted it out of the commonplace. It is a strangely disconcerting experience to have the twin feelings of elation and anxiety and yet this is what occurs as we take in the work: Henderson’s “doubles” of the real are strangely beautiful as they are off - putting. We feel drawn to them as we feel estranged from them as well: these once-common objects, once a part of an open-ended historical time, have been eerily spectacularized. They have been given a new existence as heroic symbols of public life. Henderson’s display-mode giganticisms surround and envelope us yet they are inaccessible to lived experience. Theycenter us only to decenter us shortly afterwards. Let’s recall that the word eccentric, derived from the Greek ekkentros means “outside of the center.” Daniel Henderson’s artworks tend to make us think of ourselves in relation to the big picture as they fine-tune us to see our own epoch as one of many subsequent epochs to follow in late postmodernism. Keeping this in mind makes Walter Benjamin’s remark on the relativity of time periods apt: “There has never been an epoch that did not feel itself to be “modern” in the sense of eccentric, and did not believe itself to be standing before an abyss. The desperately clear consciousness of being in the middle of a crisis is something chronic in humanity. Each age unavoidably seems to itself a new age. The “modern,” however, is as varied in its meaning as the different aspects of one and the same kaleidoscope.”  Daniel Henderson’s sculptures open up narratives of technologies of convenience and necessity. They bring us into the once-upon-a-time world of devices that were invented to augment the senses, to communicate, and to connect. Henderson’s sculptures have an essential story to tell. The hand and the fingers are prime players in everyday life as the luggage handle is squeezed, the receiver lifted, the dial turned, the pump lifted, the knob clicked, the keypad punched. These seemingly simple by-rote movements repeated over and over again bespeak of the habits of a developing modern society. Just as the wear and tear of usage by the hand alters the appearance or patina of the artifact, so too is the hand (and mind) molded by the object. In the making of his artworks, Henderson’s prototype objects on which the sculptures were modeled have been scrutinized from every angle, disassembled and reassembled by the artist and his team of artisans. These artifacts, as signifiers of human agency, have been assessed and accessed: they have been explored, ideationally as well as plastically, with near-ethnographic intensity. Such artifacts, originally manufactured, mass-produced, marketed, serviced, used and enjoyed by the millions became forms of identification and cohesion as well as extensions of the psychic and social body of this nation. Most telling is that, because of his professional business background, Henderson sees the big picture and can contextualize the events of our time. He’s alert to the products of material culture as he is aware of the unexpected consequences of technology through it increased complexity, our dependency on such technology as well as the Orwellian dimension of communications technology. All of this comes to bear in the making of his artworks. He is attuned to how the advances in contemporary technologies supercede each other with greater and greater quickness, creating what he calls “ …shorter and shorter product life cycles that contribute to a constantly changing landscape and that erode the shared cultural history.”  It is worth reiterating that Henderson’s pieces work along two contradictory ideational tracks: that of celebration and that of critique. While the work as a whole has an epiphanous aspect (Arthur C. Clarke once noted “ “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” and “ When technology becomes sufficiently obsolete, it becomes an Art Form…”) it appears to monumentalize the ephemeral aspect of modern consumerism. Daniel Henderson’s sculptures, heralding the condition of flux, are odes to cultural amnesia and of elapsed time. By the use of monstrous aberrational doubling and a transmutation of materials (from, say, Bakelite into French marble in Marconi) Henderson’s artworks become touchstones and milestones of ephemerality, reminding us that change is the only permanent aspect of the world. His monuments reflect the human condition as it relates to memory: each generation is fated to forgetting the prior generation’s experience while building from it and out from under it. The artist recognizes that his monumentalization impulse, that is to say his yearning for evidence of eternity --- permanent markers of remembrance intended to survive the sands of time --- serve, paradoxically, to remind us not of what is lacking in our lives, that is to say, a sense of permanence. His works, instead, are memorials to what is actually present in our lives (the momentary, insubstantiality, and impermanence). In essence Henderson is intent on making monuments to transitory pleasures. Seen in this light Henderson’s artworks illuminate Paul Ricoeur’s observations “ …temporality constitutes the existential precondition for the reference of memory and of history to the past…it is always in the present, finally, that forgetting is conjugated.”  Henderson the thinker is Henderson the sensualist and visionary. As an artist he is also a down-to-earth rationalist and skeptic. Integration. This by means of introducing the fact that Henderson is enamored of engineering and of mechanistic forces he is also aware of the nuances of somatic energy that flows between the body of a sculpture and that of the viewer. He has a deep connection with stone, material he considers to be a living substance that must be worked with, teased and handled with mindfulness to release its inner nature to the fullest. These are important considerations as the artist intends to create charged, sensualized three-dimensional experiences for the viewer. Henderson believes in the transmission of experiential and psychic energy is to be transmitted through the magicalization of surfaces. This is at the center of the transfiguring powers of art and is no small matter. Henri Focillon in his essay “In Praise of Hands” writes:
“ Art begins with transmutation and continues with metamorphosis. It is not man’s language for communicating with God; it is the perpetual renewal of Creation. Art is the invention of materials as well as the inventor of forms. It develops its own physical laws and its own mineralogy. It plunges its hands into the entrails of things to shape them to its own pleasure. First of all, art is both artisan and alchemist. It works in a leather apron, like a smith. Its hands are black and torn in the struggle of contending with things that weigh and burn. In both the shrewd and the violent actions of his mind, man is preceded by his powerful hands. The artist, carving wood, hammering metal, kneading clay, chiseling a block of stone, keeps alive for us man’s dim past, something without which we could not exist. Is it not admirable to find living among us in the machine age this determined survivor of the “hand age?”  Black 500 and Princess, to take two isolated examples, overwhelm in their physicality as well as in their sensuousness; we have an instantaneous somatic response: to want to touch these works and make them part of our lives, so sumptuously have they been rendered using materials such as various stones and metals, that are clearly antithetical to their original casings. The artist highlights the presentational and commemorative status of his works by his use of permanent materials. He also uses plints, elevating many of his works, as if to set them apart. In doing so he monumentalizes the memories of the out-dated objects and how they contextualize our own current technology and state of affairs. Things have speeded up so much since the rise of mass-mechanization, mass-distribution, and mass-consumerism. In essence Henderson’s sculptures serve various intentionalities: they are connectors to the space of the hand and soma. They serve as indicators of the current detritus of unused or used-up products that seems to be choking us year after year. The artworks become signifiers pointing the commercial value system that demands throwaway disposability marching in step to quickening rates of obsolescence every year. To that point, in the July 1, 2010 issue of New York Times tech writer David Pogue, reviews the newest release of a portable communications device, the Motorola Droid X. He asks his gadget-geek readers: “ You think technology moves too fast? You think your camera, camcorder and computer become obsolete quickly? Try buying an app phone. In this business, the state of the art changes as often as Lady Gaga changes outfits…” He concludes his column like this: “ …the Droid X is a big beautiful contender for ‘the best Android phone on the market’ crown. This month’s crown, anyway.” Henderson is a memorialist, a raconteur. An historian and ethnographer. A lover of historical achievement, he celebrates distinct markers within the history of technology. This technology covers the social history within the worlds of telecommunications (various telephones), visuality (View-Master), and the medical industry (the medical satchel). Dan Henderson’s visual work is reflection embodied in form. This is another way of saying that art is visual poetry and visual philosophy combined. To evaluate the terms of art one goes about it by defining any philosophy as a means of describing. This description process is centered along two axes that contain the double question: What is being described? and How is it being described? The “it” in philosophy and in visual philosophy as well is usually in the form of a question or speculation. It is fascinating to probe the artist’s intentionalities by exploring various questions he may be posing through the work that he is doing, using the methodologies, formal attributes and materials that he has chosen to speak through. This exploration has lead him to the making of what could in all fairness be called “ markers.” These markers in and of themselves tell stories about their own making as they narrate the times in which these recreations of functional objects or instruments were made, used, and discarded. Henderson asks essential questions about being caught, existentially, in the cross currents of private and shared memories. Paul Ricoeur’s observations are apt: “There are only two principles of connection: that of the ‘facts and material phenomena’ and that of collective memory. Now the former principle is reflected in consciousness only in the present. …it is within the frameworks of collective thought that we find the means of evoking the series and the connection of objects. Collective thought is alone capable of this operation. ”  Henderson’s works, as markers, serve as signifiers of the sculptor’s musings on human aspiration, development and the claims of progress. The work is layered because they offer no one-liner responses to time and to inevitable and irrefutable change. These works although they are modeled on objects drawn from material culture of the past are not inherently backward looking odes to Americana. They certainly aren’t realized exclusively out of the artist’s need or his projection of his audience’s essential desire to relive the (better, simpler) past. It is a lot more complicated and paradoxical than that. Henderson’s markers come out of a desire to monumentalize something in the past, certainly. But what is at the core of this longing supercedes the sole intentionality of recording for the sake of recapturing supposedly distant and soon-to-be-effaced memories and habits and styles. Henderson’s markers, his monumentalizing and memorializing instincts serve to remind us that we forget and how easily every generation does so with increasing intensity. Henderson’s sense of wonder  explores a double-movement: how we are severed from the past and simultaneously subject to it. In pointing to old-fashioned objects within the twentieth century Henderson points to the rise of industrial capitalism and to its effects on our mores and personal lives under global capitalism. Henderson’s often out scaled sculptures become manifestations of and metaphors for surplus consumption and is effects: As Susan Stewart points out in On Longing: “…within the rise of industrial capitalism the gigantic becomes located within the abstraction of an exchange economy. The gigantic is moved from a presocial world of the natural to the social world of material production.”  The issue at hand is what to consider in dealing with Daniel Henderson’s drives towards the monumental? My starting point is the question what does it mean, “to monumentalize”? ”To make into a monument”? This question necessarily takes into account the needs and desires that propel the narrative of commemoration, or rememoration, that describes in some way the point of reifying impact when the private or public mind recognizes the need to give emphasis to a memory or to a trigger that signals that memory (be it the memory of an incident, or of an achievement, or of a person). To create a marker of time or of place or of event within space inevitably produces a physical monument, a body. The monument bears testimony to values and traditions and mindsets of those individuals who have either instigated the monument or have been the subject of the monument. In this sense I am referring to Henderson’s monument as a signifier of memorialization. Monument as memorial.
What is fascinating to me about the premise of the monument is that this tendency to create a marker of some kind is just that, a tendency, an urge that can take not only many forms but can also assume different guises and sizes. After all, of Henderson’s artworks, Housecall and Fossil Fuel are actual-sized works. Brick 2 is hardly gargantuan in its scale. Yet each work towers with outsized presence. So while it is true that he associates the monument with monumentality, as in “bigness”, the notion of scale or size is relative to and relevant only in relation to context. For a child, building a small wooden box so as to contain the body of Red Robin, victim of the last winter’s snows and burying that small container under the flowering plum tree becomes a monumental act. What appears to us as adults as an insignificant mound of dirt over the box is seen as grand to the child as any pyramid in the Valley of the Kings. Susan Stewart notes in that size is situational, contextual and relational. She emphasizes that “…the skewed relation to physical scale, to the fact that description of the miniature and description of the gigantic rely on internal systems of comparisons and social notions of the hierarchy of detail.”  “I’m still big,” says Nora Desmond in Sunset Boulevard “it’s the movies that have gotten smaller….” Indeed, mindset and context plays a big part in all of this. Stewart reminds us that “…we cannot speak of the small, or the miniature, work independent of the social values expressed toward private space- particularly, of the ways that the domestic and the interior imply the social formation of an interior subject. And we cannot speak of the grand and the gigantic independent of social values expressed toward nature and the public and exterior life of the city. Aesthetic size cannot be divorced from social function and social values.” 
Also implicated through the sphere of reception in which the monument is fitted or finds its place within the imagination, is the abstract space of mass communication, mass production, mass delivery systems---each of these entities are gigantic. As Stewart notes: “ …the fact that such subjects are ‘larger than life’ is not the result of their historical acts so much as it is a matter of their medium of presentation; the representation fully effaces its referent; there is only a series of images related to each other in a chainlike, cumulative formation. And that formation, that generation of sign by means of sign provides the aesthetic corollary for the generative capacity of commodity relations… Exaggeration of scale and significance are multiplied with the distance of each representation from lived reality. The relativizing capacity of context and history and the relativizing capacity of the body are absent to the viewer invented by spectacle. ” 
It is useful, I think, to contextualize Henderson’s monumentalizing tendencies and his thinking on the past-ness of things as well as the rapid rate of product manufacturing and outsourcing by taking Viennese art historian Alois Riegl’s 1903 essay “The Modern Cult of Monuments: Its Character and Its Origin” as a point of departure. This seminal text is a useful time capsule. While it has to do with preservation issues and cultural values that were being reframed through the ethos of “the modern” at the time, it nevertheless contains an early discussion about what we are to value of the past, if anything. It also hints at the Orwellian commerce machine unleashed through planned obsolescence. It allows us to track the changing conditions of culture and its perplexities as modernism begins to feel time in a different way than time was felt in pre-modern times in which the eternal, not the “now” was prioritized.
Let’s set the stage by keeping in mind that by 1863 Charles Baudelaire had famously defined “the modern” in the following way: “By ‘modernity’ I mean the ephemeral, the fugitive, the contingent, the half of art whose other half is the eternal and the immutable.” . Such was the new tempo of the Modern epoch: favoring the newness of ever changing “novelty” (and its concomitant aspects of quickness, disposability, fragmentation) while disavowing the self-legitimizing narratives of the old order that staked its claims of authority through tradition and continuity. Reigl’s text was originally written to explore the theoretical and institutional conundrums at the beginning of the 20th century associated with the preservation of artistic monuments (primarily architecture). He as well as other historians of the time was trying to see what protection of what values needed to be prioritized by preservationists. The main issue was how to optimize the “memory-value” of monuments through “historical value.” “Memory value” meant learning about history, the means of culture and the goals of culture. The big issues within preservation circles centered around whether to let the (intentional) monuments decay and fall into ruin or to restore them to the point where the monument looks untouched by time (emphasizing what he termed “newness-value”) or to preserve the monument’s age-marks, allowing its age-value and historical value, twinned, to shine. He defines age-value as that which is ”rooted purely in its value as memory…[which springs from our appreciation of the time which has elapsed since [the work] was made and burdened with age.”  Reigl sees “newness-value ” and “age-value” informing each other through complementarity. He asserts that “age value” does not have an historical or historicized DNA whose function needs to be exemplified by commemorative value. Age value, according to the historian, is not dependant on consciousness of historical development yet it uses historical knowledge to recreate the past to look like the new. It is ahistorical in that sense and is apprehended through its opposite or twin “newness.” Riegl is suggesting that modernity is blurring the real or absolute distinction between “newness” and “oldness” as the old is remodeled/reconstructed to hide evidence or trace of decay (time). He is in some sense referring to the rise of replicas and mass reproductions in his time, aspects of the real that continue to affect us today. Riegl’s essay points to an array of paradoxical philosophical involutions that have come to a head in late post-modernism.
As I have proposed, Henderson’s sculptures are, at least in part, attempts of calling into question the premise of planned obsolescence (so for products, so for people) as one of the engines of late-global capitalism. Questions about what we value and why permeate the artist’s work. One inquiry that opens up as if we were in a hall of speculative mirrors is the following: if the complementary terms between newness and pastness (oldness) are continuously being re-modified, retrofitted and merged so as to have historical time being simultaneously affirmed and annulled, an historicist perspective (such as it is) takes on a surreal condition of suspension. What, one might ask, does it mean to say that the “past” is valued for its “pastness” if it no longer provides accurate models for us to gauge the “what” and the “how” of historicizing impulses nor leaves us with authentic validating evidence of the organic relationship between monuments and the societies that produces them. This leads to speculation of what is being commemorated through the artistic monument. How can commemoration even take place or take hold if a primary post-modern impulse is to disconnect, sever, or mask our ties with the past?
Henderson as poet and a perfectionist, poses such questions through the fabrication of his objects that bring to life recognizable objects and artifacts the past. In so doing his work serves as a trigger that allows the viewer of whatever generation to make correspondences with his or her own life-style and behavior; simultaneously the sculptures themselves suggest how the original artifacts on which the artworks are modeled affected their time and shaped the future. Henderson remakes those original mass-produced objects out of stone or bronze (the archetypal memorializing and monumentalizing substances) while often changing the object’s scale. The effect is to de-familiarize the familiar. The results are astonishingly effective in getting the attention of the public. Henderson’s artworks are vehicles for what Heidegger called the “ grounding-attunement” of the viewer so that the beholder can allow himself a renewed relation with self-reflection. The sculptures are intended to give new life to artifacts of history: a physician’s bag, out-of-date telephones, a pre-digital scientific toy, and a radio from the late thirties. Henderson is anything but a Luddite, and is hardly excessively drawn or attached to memories of the past for its own sake. His work, while referencing the distanciation effect of time on memory (cultural, public, private) isn’t nostalgia-driven, although superficially speaking it might appear to be so on first read. If anything Henderson’s desire to reconsider and recontextualize artifacts of the past through his monumentalizing effects stems his futural thinking on the essence of things and on the relations between people that are of time and out of time. The artist’s ruminations on loss are at the core of his vision which has a foreboding and portentous resonance. Henderson remarks “…my work refers to what I perceive as the decline in tactility and the loss of connection to the world around us and to each other.” 
The sculptor has spoken to me about his agreement with Matthew B. Crawford’s comments in his book Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work. Crawford’s inquiry of post-industrial, digital technology value systems discusses how we are situating ourselves in this century, lulled (and perhaps infantilized and rendered groggily stupid) by the promise of gliding around in a pure information economy, severed from the material world. Crawford asks the key question: what type of work is important? Henderson shares Crawford’s insights that inquire on the impact of the widening ignorance on the part of the general public of the world of things. As Crawford, Henderson has concerns of the growing passivity and dependence we have now on our own stuff, particularly in light of the fact that we don’t know how our stuff works. No one knows (or is meant to know) what is under the hood of a new-model car or how to fix what might go wrong. .
Daniel A. Henderson’s sculptural works, made so cunningly and lovingly, generate immense fields of force that help to create a heightened sense of reality. Pushing beyond certain limits raises the issue of what is real and what is no longer real. Importantly, the exaggerations Henderson engages in never slide into irony. The rational and the irrational compete for dominance as we gaze on his recast structures whose once- functional objects they are based upon originated in private, intimate space. These re-imaginings sit on plinths (or thrones, if you will) intrinsically given to the world through a measure of exaltation. The artist’s vision is round and expansive. It suspends us between the rational and the irrational, between the dream and the nightmare, between belief and lack thereof, and between a thing and its idea. Most excitingly Henderson’s work is a parallel enterprise, one that explores private space and collective histories while creating straight parables of past human endeavor (or follies still to come). These parables have never felt so urgent and so especially moving as they do now.
#### MEMORY MONUMENTS: THE RECENT WORK OF DANIEL A. HENDERSON
FOOTNOTES  Walter Benjamin, Illuminations (NY: Harcourt Brace Janovich 1968) 257. Trans. D. Redmond.
 Artist email correspondence with author June 28, 2010.
 Walter Benjamin, The Arcades Project (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999) 545.Trans. H. Eiland and K. McLaughlin.
 Artist email correspondence with author June 28, 2010
 Paul Ricoeur, Memory, History, Forgetting (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004) 347. Translated by K. Blamey and D. Pellauer.
 Henri Focillon, The Life of Forms in Art (NY: Zone Books, 1989) 169. Trans. C.B.Hogan and G. Kubler.
Also relevant to Henderson’s susceptibilities as a sculptor: “As for me I separate hands neither from the body nor from the mind. But the relationships between mind and hand are not, however, so simple as those between a chief accustomed to obedience and a docile slave. The mind rules over the hand; hand rules over the mind, the gesture that makes nothing, the gesture with no tomorrow, provokes and defines only the state of consciousness. The creative gesture exercises a continuous influence over the inner life. The hand wrenches the sense of touch away from its merely receptive passivity and organizes it for experiment and action. It teaches man to conquer space, weight, density and quantity. Because it fashions a new world, it leaves its imprint everywhere upon it. It struggles with the very substance it metamorphoses and with the very form it transfigures. Trainer of man, the hand multiplies him in space and time. ” (Focillon, The Life of Forms in Art, p.184)
 Ricoeur, 122-3
 “ Insofar as wonder can function as a kind of wound in the everyday…it must again be emphasized: just as a wound ceases to be itself when it heals, wonder is only wonder when it remains open. Wonder opens an originary rift in thought, an unsuturable gash that both constitutes and deconstitutes thinking as such. To open the question of wonder, then, is to open thought not only to the fantastic and amazing but also of the dreadful and the threatening. As we try to follow the traces of this wondrous primordiality, we therefore find ourselves in the ambivalent nether regions of Burke’s and Kant’s sublime- as well as Blaise Pascal’s abysmal awe, Rudolf Otto’s numinous, Maurice Blanchot’s disaster, Jacques Lacan’s real, Julia Kristeva’s abject, and Soren Kierkegaard’s horrisreligious. Opening the question of awe, thinking opens the fascinating/repulsive, creative /ruinous, astounding/horrifying, hierophantic/monstrous excess against which, as we will see, more “proper’ philosophy takes pains to secure itself.” Mary-Jane Rubenstein, Strange Wonder- The Closure of Metaphysics and the Opening of Awe, (NY: Columbia University Press, 2008) 11
 Susan Stewart, On Longing – Narratives of the Miniature, The Gigantic, The Souvenir, the Collection (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1993) 80.
[11-13] Stewart, 94, 95, 91.
 Charles Baudelaire, The Painter of Modern Life and Other Essays (NY: Da Capo Press, 1964) 13. Trans. J. Mayne.
 Alois Riegl, Der Moderne Denkmalkultus, seine Wesen und seine Entstehung, Vienna, 1903. “ The Modern Cult of Monuments: Its Character and Its Origins”, in Oppositions, Number 25, Fall 1982, pp.21-51. Trans. Forster and Ghirardo
Riegel notes: “ These monuments are nothing more than indispensable catalysts which trigger in the beholder a sense of the life cycle, of the emergence of the particular from the general its gradual but inevitable dissolution back into the general. This immediate emotional effect depends on neither scholarly knowledge nor historical education. The cult of age-value condemns not only every will- full destruction of monuments as a desecration of all-consuming nature but in principle also every effort at conservation, as restoration is an equally unjustified interference from nature. The cult of age-value, then, stands in ultimate opposition to the preservation of monuments…. It would appear that we are facing an irresolvable conflict. On the one hand is an appreciation of the old for its own sake which objects to renovation; on the other hand an appreciation of the new for its own sake which attempts to remove all traces of age. The obviousness with which newness-value manifests itself is still far stronger and more immediate than the effect of age value. Since newness-value has enjoyed validity for thousands of years, its adherents claim for its absolute and lasting preeminence.”
 Telephone conversation with artist June 27, 2010.
Henderson is coming at his layered subject matter through the eyes of an historical materialist inasmuch as his take on production stems from what has been noted before: his background as an inventor in communications technology who holds numerous important patents. In this respect he shares Walter Benjamin viewpoint “ Modern mass production destroys the sense of art, and the sense of work, in labor: ‘We have products; we no longer have works.’ ” Walter Benjamin, The Arcades Project, 768
 “ By way of contrast, older readers will recall that until recent decades, Sears catalogues included blown-up parts diagrams and conceptual schematics for all appliances and many other mechanical goods. It was simply taken for granted that such information would be demanded by the consumer.” Matthew B. Crawford, “Shop Class as Soulcraft” The New Atlantis, Number 13, Summer 2006, p.1.