Art is not about soothing noises
We went to our favourite café and sat in the middle of chaos as a splatter of artists 'installed' their works on the walls. They had not arrived together, and the later one pointed out that the paintings already installed had been hung on the wrong walls. They consulted the plan and agreed, after a brief but futile attempt by the first to claim fait-accompli, that the paintings should be transferred to their allocated space.
One artist had a husband with her. He was there to do all the banging. The café owner squeezed out from behind the counter after the first fusillade of tapping. "I would rather you didn't make any more holes", she said, "and there are live cables behind there". A great artistic moment was lost forever, we were denied a preview to the work entitled ‘Creative Fire-dance’.
Woodpecker man finished tapping into his pre-drilled holes and installed his partner's works. The second artist lady, she who had reclaimed her wall by recourse to the plan, gave the display a critical viewing.
"I think you've really found your style with this collection", she said to the creator, fresh back from the shops.
Creator turned to hanging husband. "They're upside down", she hissed.
A frail white-haired lady at a table by the door tugged at the sleeve of the other artist and asked if she could have a cup of tea with a slice of walnut cake.
"I'm ever so sorry,” said organising artist lady, “we don't actually work here."
"Oh, are you the decorators? I do like the colour of the walls, it’s very soothing"
I'm worried that I am a catalyst; no matter where I go, no matter how quietly I sit at the back and try to be invisible, something or someone always starts to misbehave. Now it's little old ladies. Where will it end?
One artist had a husband with her. He was there to do all the banging. The café owner squeezed out from behind the counter after the first fusillade of tapping. "I would rather you didn't make any more holes", she said, "and there are live cables behind there". A great artistic moment was lost forever, we were denied a preview to the work entitled ‘Creative Fire-dance’.
Woodpecker man finished tapping into his pre-drilled holes and installed his partner's works. The second artist lady, she who had reclaimed her wall by recourse to the plan, gave the display a critical viewing.
"I think you've really found your style with this collection", she said to the creator, fresh back from the shops.
Creator turned to hanging husband. "They're upside down", she hissed.
A frail white-haired lady at a table by the door tugged at the sleeve of the other artist and asked if she could have a cup of tea with a slice of walnut cake.
"I'm ever so sorry,” said organising artist lady, “we don't actually work here."
"Oh, are you the decorators? I do like the colour of the walls, it’s very soothing"
I'm worried that I am a catalyst; no matter where I go, no matter how quietly I sit at the back and try to be invisible, something or someone always starts to misbehave. Now it's little old ladies. Where will it end?
posted by Sopwith-Camel | 9:34 am
3 Comments:
He was there to do all the banging.
Men have other uses?
Of course. Sometimes they can be made to stand holding things tightly together, just like nails but without the noise.
And don't you just love watching them whack their balls around?
Little Old Lady 1: "You know Max Bygraves ain't his real name don't you?"
Little Old Lady 2: "Ain't whose real name?"
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