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 wednesday, february 21So last night I dreamt that I was at SXSW. The highlight of the conference was a performance by David Siegel. An excited throng waited in the hallways of the conference center, and once the sun had gone down, crowded into one of those impossibly slim rooms. The seating sloped towards a dimly lit stage, solely occupied by a large, plain desk. To the left, there was a small, clear acrylic box that protruded outwards from the wall. It contained some sore of mechanism which rotated a display of paintings, sloppy facsimiles of work by Rothko, Noland and other colour field painters. The growing audience babbled with anticipation only to grow quiet when Siegel entered carrying a basket of paints and brushes. The lights went up and he began to paint over every surface with mad, scattered movements. Nena's 99 Luftballoons boomed from the sound system as the paint flew and the audience screamed with a frenzied madness. It ended as quickly as it had begun with Seigel silhouetted in a spotlight, arms flung wide, head thrust back, paint dripping from every appendage. One arm was extended out over the audience and someone collected the dripping paint that ran from his fingers into a bucket. I sat stunned in my seat until the auditorium was empty and then exited into the wide hallway. Yowza!
"Papu, Papu, he's very big and blue." It's stuck in my head, now, let it be stuck in yours. Oh, ho, ho! Caterina has hers. I think I may have found mine. Ladies and gentlemen, Dakota Smith's Canadian Girlfriend - "Don't know what you're thinking aboot. I don't know what you're doing, eh." I have moved, but the "aboot" lingers like a stinky cheese. Yesterday? Miss fiddle twiddle pick bang. |
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