Art, like morality, consists in drawing the line somewhere.

There's another art installation in the courtyard below my window at work. Wouldn't you know it, it's another mediation on man's inhumanity to the environment! But really, is there any other kind of art installation in the year 2008? It seems to me that whoever out there accrediting Salamanca artists insist on some "man's inhumanity to the environment" component on public displays these days.

I have an idea that I think could be successful: convict built courtyard, two heavy timber posts set into the ground, set in an 'X' arrangement. Get yourself one typical Salamanca artist (not hard to spot, any anaemic-looking vegan in a beret with bad facial hair should do). Strap said artist to the posts and whip them liberally with a cat-o-nine-tails!

No convinced?

The masterstroke is that the person doing the whipping will be dressed as a penguin/bilby/southern right whale! You see, the penguin/bilby/southern right whale will be extracting revenge for the damage caused by man's inhumanity to the environment!

Comments

Miles McClagan said…

"Salamanca artists insist on some "man's inhumanity to the environment" component on public displays these days."

Boss - I'm going to stack a Salamanca courtyard with Nickelback albums...I can think of greater representation of this artistic point...

20 November 2008 at 22:34

USelaine said…

But. But. I like this installation.

21 November 2008 at 15:47

Diederick Wijmans said…

I am totally with you!!

21 November 2008 at 19:17

Kris McCracken said…

Miles, Nickelback: the Live of the naughties...

USelaine, I don't mind the look of it either, but sometimes I do wonder what ever happened to actual talent in an art. If it's all about contstructing some elaborate bullshit, I could well be the world's greatest artist!

Blognote, great!

28 November 2008 at 09:33

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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