Hello Fantasy Forum Dwellers,
Regards to all and turkey lovers...
During my decades of art professionalism I was handed jobs, but sensible job briefs were rare. The best instructions were typed, written in Helvetica to present ideas sparsely, thus allowing an artist’s latitude to dream. (I am soooo old school!) The clients often dominated discourse and my dreams vaporised quickly upon their interference.
The situations made me author an article about toxic clients. Needless to say I lost jobs through silly commentary.
I also wrote an essay for a submission at Curtin University, which was quite factual, citing Jewish artists whom I had met personally. It earned me a dismal fail. University in Australia and I were a bad fit because I came from a different world.
However the ‘art’ decades began wonderfully well. I was young and I mixed it up with academics and artists, many of whom were Jewish… Oh, well. Never mind. Let’s go elsewhere.
I was with cigar smoking drinkers and we were discussing Chagall (Jewish) and storytelling trends, which went from the religious to the secular, yo-yoing to and fro, celebrating the absurd to return to the deeply serious: “You see, Pieter, the cow jumps over the moon that previously fell into the water where it was a big yellow round cheese for eloping lovers who swooned to the scratchy sounds made by a green fiddler who leaves footprints in the snow where the tree of life grows to tickle celestial star fields.”
Dad could stitch up a few observations and bring a twist to it. His atelier was my alma mater and I maxed out his studio, which was cheaper than cutting loose on my own. Everyone else entered the fray by visiting us in the atelier, in a rotating rapport of inebriation. Why not, eh? They had survived the war, and Indonesia afterwards!
“Art is about survival,” they said way back then.
Consequently ‘survival’ became my ‘leitmotif’.
I inherited the 20th Century and its baggage, to survive it for 45 years before joining the current one.
I also feel the old century was tangible and each of its art players touched me deeply. The new century feels phoney and unfamiliar to me. Thus I am dreaming the concepts for this month’s task as if I am in another place, the old-time villages with its gritty grunge storytelling.
Ironically I am doing the tasks on Yupo.
Here's what we did with turkeys in 1985: