That's how my mother used to say "what the hell" in front of my sister and me when we were little, and my father was still alive. After that, she got a bit more creative... and somehow broadened her vocabulary. But, that's another story to be told another time.
So, this morning, I saw the meme I've added to this tale, and it kicked off some old memories, and a question.
Here's what happened...
I once saw a cargo trailer repaired with SEVERAL rolls of duct (not duck) tape... what we used to call in the army "90 mile an hour tape". It was just a temporary fix so the load could be delivered on time without the expense and delay of offloading onto another trailer.
However, it WAS a tour de force on the part of the trailer tech, above and beyond, worth a medal with mudflap clusters.
Many rolls of duct tape gave up their lives to accomplish the mission.
The result was a work of art in its own way, and the spectators (yeah, a bunch of us stood watching the master's performance) actually applauded when the final strip was applied. There was a sadness too, that it was over.
We had been in the presence of greatness.
I love art... especially the great masters, da Vinci, Van Gogh, Edvard Munch, Paul Gauguin, Rembrandt, definitely Michelangelo, Camille Claudel - Auguste Rodin’s muse and mistress - and Rodin himself, the many unknown scuptors of ancient Greek art.. the list is endless as, with the passing of time, I discover new "masters", male and female.
However, I have seen "art" produced in bedrooms (mind out of the gutter please), small kiosks, on street corners, and even displayed in the everchanging exhibitions of nature.
Art has been static, dynamic, oral, aural, and, often, an eyeful (we're talking nudes, here).
Art is all around us and sometimes can be found in the simplest act, and sometimes is only appreciated by an audience of one... the artist.
Still, art exists, and it IS art, the ability to create, and to appreciate, that most defines us as human in my mind.
Additionally, however, art, to me, is in, or can be found in, created in the mind of the observer, in almost every action or interaction, preparation or presentation, and, sometimes, it seems to me that one function of polititicans trying to please constituents, is to curtail one person's concept of art, of nature, of beauty, by "protecting" those who cannot, will not, or want not to see what is natural to the human.
Just me, thinking out loud, in public, in a form of art.
Donovan Baldwin
