#69…it is June…and matrimonial thoughts…

IMG_0003 The little creek that runs near the tent is clean, convenient, free, and close. Some participants in the reunion of anarchistic emotives have apparently decided to get married or celebrate an anniversary of such.  The cake and the wine appear to sit somewhat unstable just now, don’t you think?

Matrimony (what this table seems to offer) is based on the future, it is a promise.  Sounds nice, but there are always issues from the past enclosed in little emotion bombs (quick to hand) and today’s occurrences of – now,  wherever “now” lands.




The following is just conjecture.

“Now” might have been the first meeting, the first fifteen seconds; the dancing began, awkward probably, (an interruption on the way to mundane work?).  A bit of prancing about, hiding and showing, bending and bowing, looking and avoiding…afraid to fall?



To that out-of-balance whirl, a dance if you will, unchoreographed bodily truth; something moved on.  Both dancers clutching lit anarchist’s bombs: ancient bits and pieces of pain; brought from, visited upon, invented by, bought and cared for – presumably defensive.


Look at this, so soon after their meeting.

What do you think or, what do you  know: dropping his bomb would destroy his footing, even if both hands would be free to remove the mask…or dance better, closer.


















But, of course, the partner would have to give up her little bomb…and vanity.



But thankfully (at least apparently) all went on.




Now meanwhile, out near the peaceful stream, some wine and a little cake await, why?…do you know?




#61…where we consider sentence diagrams and sculpture…

diagram of emotive relationships in a recent sentence as mobile

Does mystery have value if no human desires to explore the underlying structure, a revelation of the un-mysterious?  Anarchists are profuse with word bombs convoluting thoughts (or mental pop-ups) aimed at emotively reasoning an end to some offensive authority: including even rational thoughts.  Certainly there is an explorable mystery in organizing explosive emotive thoughts.


Veer a bit to see a pile of coat-hangers.

Wire “art materials” from the junk deposited (with good intentions) at the door of The Temporary Museum of Enfant Terrible Culture.

During the chilled months confinement in the tent, some attendees began “coat-hanger sculpture” projects.  A coagulation of disagreements soon puddled around the project tables.  The makers were adamant that no narrative or story should be attached to their output, no figures recognized.  Their wiry sculptures don’t have to say anything, just…BE.  They are just abstract sculpture.IMG_0003

But some of the scribbler types soon identified works that resemble diagramed sentence structures, therefore implying a story or meaningful words. Attempts were made to place subject, object, and predicates plus adverbial phrases, predicate nominatives and all of the other bits and thoughts (often absurdities) preserved in sentences, as then making meaning of the coathanger art. IMG_0001 2

The wire artists, remembering the cognitive dissonance of junior high school, embroiled with the less-physical learners about keeping “their” propaganda out of “my” art.

The structures became more convoluted and complicated and enlarged in scale (a wonderful word for sculptors, meaning bigger, commanding presence).  These became huge steel structures perfect for holding bifurcated cliches.

The grammatical tyrants analyzed speeches of emotive politicos (word bombs, isolated utterances of dubiously ordered facts, paltry similes), and applied them to the sculptures.

And so sculpted steel now supports dissembled stories; combined mysteries occupying the open areas of the tent of irreconcilables.


The pale light illuminates an insufficient answer to a question seldom asked…is there meaning without a story.