Photographs of Giger’s N. Y City paintings are scattered around my desk. I examine them for the hundredth time, overwhelmed with admiration for this Swiss painter who is producing the great art of the 21st century.

What words can I use to describe these scientifically precise pages ripped out of my own body? Glance through this book yourself for a minute and sympathize with my dilemma. Our primitive, prescientific language contains few words accurate enough to communicate the scary, awesome facts this artist Giger reveals.

Giger, you slice my tissues into thin microscopic slides for the world to see.

Giger, you razor-shave sections of my brain and plaster them still pulsing across your canvas.

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