Saturn

David Bowie looks at a painting in a gallery. As he watches, the face in the portrait seems to shift, to take on his own aspects: the silhouette spills into the Ziggy Stardust mullet, then contracts into the fascist-chic pompadour of the Thin White Duke, then goes curly. An astral jewel blooms on the forehead; the left pupil dilates.   Standing before it, David Bowie sees every mask he has ever worn, every shapeshifting phase of an iconic, fifty-year career even the most jaded critic wouldn