some say that art
is a fart
of the heart
for the smart by the crazy
also the lazy
some bouyant, some sinky
some crayon, some inky
can be warm as a minky
making patrons all thinky
whether paintings or poems
or urethane foam
art is balls of brass
an unending gas
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
Reflections of a shallow pond
Jan Wilberg
Sirenita Lake
Kenneth Sibbett
OS Readers' Picks
Kathryn O'Hehir
Salon.com
Comments
so while I was cleaning, this intruded on me. crept into my brain. everything I do should be this easy. of course, one hopes for better, but sometimes, you get what you get.
terribly clever..uh..cannot remember it now..anyway:
even though it was just fun,
spontaneous silliness,
this poem has some fine sociological observations:
"fart
of the heart
for the smart by the crazy
also the lazy"
The rhyming seems kind of natural, because the message
is so true, here: mentally, physically & financially
impoverished oddballs
at the extreme margin of society
make stuff that smart rich people love to hoard...
& thinky people wanna deconstruct..
spontaneity captured in materiality...
sold in the marketplace...
odd, this "art".
see? when I come here, I end up farting around here. it's ridiculous. and I have seen dust hanging off the ceiling.
it's disgusting.
and spiders. my husband found a nest of black spiders.
TORTURED SOUL!! that's me.
back to work.
thank you james, my local angel.
and my ceiling dust celebrates another day!
R+
I resemble this.
Sign in P.U. cab.
`
No blouse
No shoes
No bugs
No hug
No get
inside
a P.U.
pickup
truck
heehaw
`
`
What is art is a question people often ask and debate, but I don't think there is answer, or even that the question is relevant. From an artist perspective, there is sublime mystery in creative practice, and it does not bear the weight of analytical scrutiny. If I'd thought about it too much, it might never have become my life, and for that, I am grateful beyond measure.
thank you thank you!
generalissmo, I am grateful!
(salute!)
ASH, hey hey!
Zanelle, I used to find spring cleaning wonderful. this year somewhat less so, as we skipped autumn and now I am paying the piper so to speak. there are enough cobwebs and dustmonkeys floating around to qualify as a haunted mansion, minus the mansion of course.
Oh Art James, I love me some pickup trucks. The rest - in the summer, I'm real okay with.....all, except the bugs.
later for bugs!
there's a big black leggy winged something flying around here the last couple of days. I thought I caught him by hand, but by the time I got to the sink he had flown free, slimey little bastard!
chances are, I'll outlive him. (fingers crossed.)
Hey you Heron! I don't even think about what art is. I don't care.
I'd someday like to do a post about this, how so few "definitions" matter. It's living and making and loving and that's it, ultimately.
you know it when you see it because it calls to you - speaks directly to you and your experience with art. when I say that I am thinking specifically of the first time I saw george baselitz. I thought, "where have you been all my life?". I thought, "I know you".
I think this kind of appreciation applies to all art and all people. you will "get" what your eye and your mind and your heart tell you is art. it's a learned cultural experience coupled with intellectual recognition. yes, there are rules. but they don't apply to everyone and all things. what rules do?
ultimately, one embraces what one "understands"
Hey ! Monkey ! Leave those webs alone !
........(¯`v´¯) (¯`v´¯)
☼•*¨`*•.¸.(ˆ◡ˆ).¸.•*
............... *•.¸.•* ♥⋆★•❥ Thanx & Smiles (ツ) & ♥ L☼√Ξ ☼ ♥
⋆───★•❥ ☼ .¸¸.•*`*•.♥ (ˆ◡ˆ) ♥⋯ ❤ ⋯ ★(ˆ◡ˆ) ♥⋯ ❤ ⋯ ★