Some things arrive just blown in the wind while other things as if conjured.  Both take their part in the “Big Story”, the myths that guide us and art is made of.  We have tried to make this reunion inclusive of all enfant terrible artists, even legendary ones.  And so we are happy to see that He and She have been helpful in using the crib to give old artists; muse, models, and lovers, a place to rekindle their story.

As most of the well-taught avant-garde types have left, it is nice that old-school artists have a place.

But outside a verbal confrontation is ensuing between Yorick and a Centaur.   The issue is that the subjects of artworks are not invited as participants in the reunion, subjects, even done by breakthrough artist, are the works of an artist’s hands.  We recognize the truth of Centaurs through artistic evidence from ancients and the renaissance and their underrepresention in modern art, but there is no evidence that Centaurs ever studied art or made any art.  And yet here they are, big rumped hybrid emotives and armed.

The combination of power and dexterity available in a Centaur is envied by soldiers and sculptors.  But they only prance around, verbalize their emotions (from equine sized lungs), throw bombs and shoot arrows (indiscriminately), flaunt their tails and manes, and swoosh and sway their rumps(disgusting). All to no value or understanding or use in modern culture.

The rumps serve for bumper stickers (the negative effects of editing complex thoughts) with unbuffered out of context logos and slogans emphatically displayed.

The Centaur addressing Yorick claims that the displays are “conceptual pop-art manifestos” and therefore demands space at the reunion.

We note the uninformed artlessness of their activity but acquiesce to their belligerence.  The drop of horse pokey and snort of Centaur muffles Yorick’s declamation,

“Ye murk of sumps with greedy rump, werest man, I’d pair thee with…”

 

More language problems …next Saturday