I’m a bad person.
When I see someone carrying recently made food I always visualise them dropping it. It’s just part of the human condition that other peoples failures are funny and there is nothing more spectacular than the cake drop.
The room fills with the aroma of freshly risen sponge.
The icing drips down the side.
And then it happens.
the shoe laces tangle.
The knees buckle.
And it goes flying through the air like a sweet vanilla projectile
The picture shows a typical incident. Edvard Munch’s “The Scream” can be seen. It is thought that the inspiration for the painting came from a similar incident that Munch experienced at his 5th birthday party.
People love schadenfreude, it goes all the way back to the earliest forms of comedy. English comedy is filled with slapstick.
Munch never truly recovered from the incident but he still managed to save some cake.
Thin Legs and Long Neck.
On The Decks A Vinyl Spins.
Dropping Some Sick Beats.
Haiku 1 – “The Stork” by Art Artz
The Cold Tarmac Rubs His Skin
A Short Dizzy Life.
Haiku 2 – “Wheels” by Art Artz
The Cement Binds Them.
But One Brick Wished He was Free.
His Friends Disapproved.
Haiku 3 – “Bricks” by Art Artz
His Arthritis Creaks.
Writing Down His Memories.
Haiku 4 – “Age” by Art Artz
The cats gather round as he approaches. He has the air of someone important about him and a glow to his fur that draws their eyes, even at this distance.
They know him well, he had been one of them. Just a simple alley cat. But he had made the big time.
He was a house cat.
Here for his annual return to his roots, complete with cat food gifts and endless tales of the high life. Regaling the rapidly growing crowd with stories of free food, sleeping on the sofa and unconditional love.
He epitomizes their hopes and dreams. An unattainable feline deity.
His presence runs a fine line between adoration and resentment.
An idolised celebrity.
And his fall from grace was all the more dramatic for it.
I hand the loveable nitwit another wad of cash in return for his ego soothing but clearly false flattery.
“Please Mr Art, tell me, how you achieve such perfection” says the small child
Another 5 pounds well spent.
It starts with a blank canvas.
A work surface on to which my creative juices can spill, much like when you accidently put the straw all the way through the capri-sun packet.
And then comes the idea, represented here as a thought bubble. This originates spontaneously. Inspiration can come from anywhere. Sometimes the inspiration can be the idea itself, this is known as the ‘idea of an idea’ paradox and puts the artist into a beautiful but inescapable artistic hole. It is thought that Van Gogh cut off his own ear just to escape the loop.
I achieved the loop in this particular piece I call “Woman in a Parka coat” or “Fur Hood”. You can choose.
I turn to face the boy again, expecting awe and wonderment
“Well there it is my beggar companion. Perfection. Here is some more cash for your trouble”
But alas he has gone.
And so has my wallet…
I’ve always struggled as a world renowned artist and critic to get people to see my work. People avoid my exhibits because they are worried about it being too crowded and this is why there is such poor attendance.
Here is one of my pieces for your eyes to digest. I think the meaning is obvious. Some people suggest to me that I should stop doing Art altogether. Maybe this is because I am too good. If I produce enough it will replace the art in all the galleries, this would be a nightmare for storage as where would you put all the old stuff? Maybe you could put my art on top of other art as shown below.
Or I could just paint over the old ones.
I’ve sent an email to Picasso to ask for permission.
Since the dawnings of time there has been art. Those people didn’t have cameras so painting was like their instagram, it just took longer. See below…
Now cameras are here art is weird to make up for it. Something has been lost.