| The Tale Behind the Sculpture | The Toronto Star Life - 01/14/02 | |
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A couple of weeks ago I bought a bum. Technically, I guess it’s a torso; a miniature concrete sculpture of a human figure from shoulder to mid-thigh, viewed from the rear, with just one quarter of one arm. While its overall colour and texture are certainly pleasing, if you were to remove the miniature-sized buttocks from this work the thing would, admittedly, loose most of it’s charm.
Each time I caught sight of it in the gallery window, it made me smile. So, keeping in mind artist Roy Adzak‘s idea that: “Good art is not what it looks like, but what it does to us.” I decided to buy it. However, I did so with some trepidation. You see, I have three children and a husband, and bringing such a cheeky little objet d’art into our home was just asking for trouble. Marshall McLuan once wisecracked, “Art is what you can get away with.” and with my crew you can’t get away with much. Despite knowing that I was probably setting myself up as the butt of many jokes, I went ahead and hung my purchase in the master bedroom’s ensuite. It wasn’t long before the harassment began. Within hours my two oldest children came bounding into the kitchen, mischievous smirks plastered on their teenaged-faces. They innocently inquired “Can we ask you about your ass?” “Yeah, yeah, very funny” I scowled. “I saw it, I liked it, so I bought it. You’ve had your fun, now give me a break.” And off they went, relenting far too easily. Somehow I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. Fast-forward a couple of days and I discovered that someone had surreptitiously plastered a bandage across the sculpture’s tiny derričre. That was followed days later by a bit of toilet paper stuffed into it’s..….well, you can imagine where. Next, one of my in-house art critics creatively fashioned a sheet of toilet paper into a tiny toga. Ahh, bathroom humour, not exactly sophisticated stuff, but mildly amusing nonetheless. I quickly got to the bottom of the mischief and ascertained which jokesters were responsible: bandage-oldest son, toilet paper trick number one – husband. However, the identity of the toga designer remains a mystery. In hindsight I realize this was all partly my fault as I’d hung the thing in a bathroom, with a medicine cabinet full of potential ammunition located oh so temptingly nearby. At least I’d known enough not to display the thing in a more public area of the house. Only immediate family would be privy to these shenanigans. Pablo Picasso once said, “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” Well, since the introduction of this little sculpture into our home, there’s certainly hasn’t been any dust gathering on my family, they’ve been far too busy thinking up new pranks to pull. No other piece of artwork we own has garnered quite so much attention, or suffered such indignities. To my knowledge the watercolour in the dining room has never once been t.p.ed, nor can I recall the lithograph in the living room ever being administered first aid. Surprisingly, even my wooden bird decoy has escaped unscathed. But, far from being bumming out by my family’s antics, they’ve made me laugh. Despite my howls of protest and stern reprimands, I have secretly enjoyed their pranks, and can’t help wondering what smartass gags they’ll dream up next. Art is after all, supposed to spark the imagination, ignite creativity, and awaken the senses. And, if once in a while it also ignites a person’s sense of humour, well, that’s all the better, isn’t it? |