Nursery rhymes and fairy tales are delivered to eager kids the World over, passing life’s truisms down in a seamless transfer way back into evolutionary time. They adopt and adapt according to where and when they are delivered but the fundamental messages I’m sure stay constant.
Reinforcing direct teachings on trust, honour, faith, integrity, valour and love in both general and specific ways they gently guide both the listener and the teller through subtle and not so subtle exemplars. One of my most favorite is the Tale of the Emperor’s New Clothes – echoing the story of Cassandra from Greek mythology.
Andrew Mar [to detract from the perfection or wholeness of : spoil. 2. archaic. a : to inflict serious bodily harm on. b : destroy. Examples of MAR. A large scar marred his face.] had a range of art school snobs to start the week today. They talked of how practically the whole country would NEED to attend such training entities to meet the need for people to design stuff for the Chinese to make and sell us for the foreseeable future. “Bless them” they said “the Chinese, you know, they’re not very good at clever things like DESIGN, they can just make things like we tell them to”.
And one of their number was An Tony Gormless, the scrap metal merchant from Gateshead. God knows how he persuaded the local authority to put up his great big, ugly sign right next to the motorway. “Scrap metal Merchant – this way – the best in the North”. Mind you some people turn off, thinking it’s a road closed sign.
He’s the same untidy guy who left his used lumber on Southport beach where, to this day, it spoils the skyline and, unlike windfarms produces no electricity or anything else useful, save perches for tired seagulls.
What really bothers me is that we are all supposed to say how wonderful these “sculptures” are and understand how they symbolise the resurrection of the true grit of Geordie steelworkers or who knows what on the Lancashire seafront – dead cockle pickers, maybe. If we don’t then we may as well not open our mouths. We don’t understand. We’re not PC or well informed enough. We didn’t, in fact, go to the right school or, indeed, University.
To me they symbolise the death of art, the antithesis of art and the tyranny of the committee. They are the imposition of ….. well actually, that’s it. They are The Imposition.