Your idled docents He and She returned from their walk by the river with their tender, mystical, tyrannical needs, somewhat resolved. Probably anxieties that outlasted their usefulness. Back at the field they find the tent dismantled, moved, and partially reerected near an old ear-corn crib sitting on a small rise where the farmstead had been.
A few things on this landscape have the illusion of permanence. This old crib has a hand-mixed concrete pad and foundation and a stout and minimal structure to hold the weight of corn drying on the cob, food for cattle. Now outdated. The simple sturdy and massive building was just utilitarian. However, with a minimalist plinth and a mechanical contraption tower sweeping up from the roof, and the good fortune not to be in a tornado’s path or burnt in the volunteer fire department’s training when they torched the house and barn; it has unintended monumentality. Alone on the vasty fields, awaiting the erection of the even larger, but temporary, tent and a new purpose.
Monumentality, it goes best with sculpture and architecture, it needs scale. Placement and proportions bottom to top, and hopefully a purpose; it’s better bigger than you. But lots of things are bigger than you, fears past their usefulness, for example. Monuments signify people or large ideas to be everlasting in our memory, many recalling events using bombs. Which brings up, you probably realize that a monument and an anarchists reunion is absurd. Anarchists diminish or destroy monuments clearing a place for their version of the realm of folly.
The gathering here has dwindled to a few. Most of the early arrivers, recent avant-garde types, found little completed and left because there was nothing that fit memorable art writings, their emotive bombs inapproriately used. We were informed that the reunion plan, a reunion of the enfant terribles, may not be probable even if it is possible.
He and She are awaiting you in the crib…next Saturday.
2 thoughts on “#12…considering monuments”
Brainy bowling bombs blow up fields of expectation.
I LOVE this piece of writing with the images! Thank you … for de-light artistry!
are actually moments
frozen in time and space —
act-ually an impossibility.
I’m wondering …
what would a monument
look like —
Maybe in process,
like everything else,
like melting away?
with a bit of senseless guilt,
sometimes I wish my words
had monumentality …
no past tense verbs allowed
and that Love would last forever.
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