#110 … considering the winds of inspiration and coffee drips …


Artists, this time of year, sit in garrets (if they can find one) or, more commonly, off in some corner table considering the splotched patterns of spilled coffee as the wind blows against the wall, just inches away .

It is March, the glum, gloom, precursor to Spring The Delightful and the most appropriate time for the poetic imagination (unfortunately often in the most prosaic pathetic pseudo-journalistic rant form).

Behind the cages of curled-up circus animals here at the tent and slightly upwind into the corners; the wail of the wind, grey of the sky, and general earthiness has encouraged poetic rants from those emotives who have wintered-over here.IMG_0011



While the jesters play with their jester’s sticks, taunting the winds and the windy-wise ones there are voices coming from the corners.  “But, I didn’t…(followed by indecipherable words) came several times.  “But, I didn’t…”.  But, I didn’t…” (“didn’t” what, or to what end is not clear).






You have probably heard many similar expressions, repetitive, loud, hammered with an unceasing mechanical rhythm;  but these are presently unadorned by electronic amplification and overwhelmed by the prairie wind and animal snoring.

It might be some marvelous insight predicted by how the coffee got spilt.



And so it goes, artistic inspiration. Oh, and the answer to last weeks riddle from Yorick?

The Handrail…IMG_0001


#73…Considering Yorick, floods, & cartoon bubbles…


Floods, they come and go, usually taking with them the fallen.  But some of the fallen become embedded; anchoring the edges of ancient and present times, and, this is to surmise … a place for fools.


IMG_0002Yorick has been missing for awhile, a professional fool’s skeleton, medieval jester, princely tragedy’s companion; lived, died, and resurrected – by virtue of art. He has rested awhile at the river contemplating another apt comment or juggling trick to awaken the witless to their folly, and nudge them to better behavior.IMG_0005

The jester’s goal…(jesters are congenitally about Joy and Truth)…conjure an insightful smart-aleck one-liner pointing to the consequence of hubris; war, rape, hunger, blood-letting that ends with the onset of malaise, the misconstruing of fun with joy.

Yorick’s perceptive comments, and clever juggling, are largely out-of-date to political celebrity royals. Flat cartoon bubbles are the vehicles for modern times; jokeish profundity in snappy little tidbits…perhaps.

Inflated, cartoon balloons could spread ideas far afield, if the winds blow right; still, there are limits to letting wisdom float free. IMG_0001



Were cartoon bubbles Medieval, they would have been in danger from below (an oligarchy’s crossbows), now they are probably doomed by drones from all directions.





Considering that, Yorick’s balloons were sending variants of airy thoughts (ideas about peace and harmony, brief warnings about violence,  treason, and treachery); and, considering that the Temporary Museum of Enfant Terrible Culture hosts many artistics from other ages, an antique form was re-construed – banderoles – those script holders from medieval manuscripts and the late circus.





To that end Yorick conscripted theatricals to perform, but, as it is;


the winds still blow and jokes (especially dry, witty ones) don’t translate.

Apparently presentation means are variable, even if similar, as is the cliche’ message. It is difficult to deliver the wit that accumulates into Joy.

Yorick retreats. The default settings for amusing present fools are digital scores, ticker tapes, and virtual tragedies scrolling the screen edges for the emotives: folly is  Fun.

IMG_0001.jpgYorick harbors on a long-embedded log and illuminates (passé) banderoles; thoughts of recurring floods and remaining fools.