Fog-enshrouded, does your grey matter hold a tragedy engulfed ruler? At the reunion of artistic types fog-wrapped tragic artistic types are plentiful. Needing assistance to construe joy all should probably meet Yorick. To our advantage, this skeletal specter of death and all vanity has decided to join us.
Yorick is the only honored guest, the only possessor off a proper name according to the rule of enfant terribles reunion. Yorick, a medieval jester, once lay deep in a verdant microbial plot, flesh detached by worms, in a land of gloom and treachery. But through the grace of Art, staged fiction; his skeleton was reanimated. “Ah, the world, I know it.” says Yorick.
Yorick found his way to this reunion through deep immemorial strata, his ancestor’s traveling jongleur shows. He has their flare for distilling the wit of stories. Although vanity once possessed him, a vision of dried bones now greets his mirror. Brushing the dust and ashes off his brow, “Vainglory! Ah”, says Yorick poking around the gathering reunion seeing the fame grasping, “There is nothing new trodding the boards.”
In his fleshed days his skilled physical gestures, acrobatics, and juggling were enough to bring humor to a markedly humorless aristocratic bunch. With overtures by cymbals and flutes, he danced the vulgar dances of the common folk sometimes in mocking satire of the king’s court. Un-amplified dance music we should add, and without a multi-kilowatt light show…unamplified?…in candlelight? and someone was amused or even distracted? He must have been good! Walking among us now wearing a jesters crown and dust and ashes, surprising men and frightening women into emoting public horror and uncomfortable laughter; Yorick is the master, an anachronistic anarchist with a rusty old bomb…still fissing for the ladies.
We will be seeing him around. Fame, the glory of all enfant terrible artistic types, intrigues him, recalling the old days. Yorick witnessed the royal courts sloshing flagons of mead, caressing their orbs, blithering explosive muddle as tarnished honors were passed about and jealousy raised its’ all to fleshed out head. Now, several artists want awards ceremonies, evening auctions, and extraordinary glitz and glory media works. The princes, earls, and marquesses of old would feel at home; hyping ceremonies for small talents in need of big venues.
Having the only unquestioned long-running solo show Yorick will probably get a lifetime achievement award; as if it matters to him.
Next Saturday…Dangerous conditions.