Main Contents

#a363 :: Bronze and stone sculpture

February 13, 2009

021109A leopard, viagra savaging a prone man.

The man’s head has snapped off the sculpture, information pills which makes it extra-poignant.

I love the way this is rendered, his spots suggested by little rings of bronze, his tail curled down between the man’s legs and shoulders hunched in a pose of Darwinian dominance.

Fitting, for the week of Charles Darwin‘s 200th birthday.
021109A leopard, viagra sale savaging a prone man.

The man’s head has snapped off the sculpture, prostate which makes it extra-poignant.

I love the way this is rendered, his spots suggested by little rings of bronze, his tail curled down between the man’s legs and shoulders hunched in a pose of Darwinian dominance.

Fitting, for the week of Charles Darwin’s 200th birthday.
021009Around our house, cialis 40mg I make dinner one of two ways:

  1. Crank something out in a hurry on the stove, prescription slap it down in front of the kids and hope they don’t moan or spill all over their clothes as they forget to use their utensils;
  2. Or grill something big and munchy (think ribs or sesame-garlic chicken with corn on the cob) on the barbecue, hand out plastic utensils and grab a beer.

But somewhere in the world, people are bunching up their good linen napkins in lovely napkin rings for fear of – what, I don’t know – having their napkins look unceremonious.

I appreciate the culture of a good table setting. On our trip to London last summer, we got to tour Windsor Castle’s grand ballroom, where HM the Queen had ordered a state dinner prepared for 150. Picture that in gold dining utensils set aside 150 bone china plates on gold-plated chargers, each with little LED floodlights illuminating a hand-calligraphed nametag beneath this ceiling and you begin to get the picture.

These rings (a loan from Dad) are part of the same Culture of Preciousness, about which I have bloviated a bit in the past.

Precious. When you somehow need to feel special by making your guests feel special.
021309It’s rare that an object straddles the razor-fine line between art and camp, between craft and kitsch.

Yet here is a little man of bronze, order made to recline in the cup of a water-pocked stone.

His blobby countenance, shop his Giacomettian proportions keep him from being a thing of manufactured cuteness and maybe lend him a bit of gravitas. Or, he could be just a quaint paperweight. I can’t decide.

This is something my father lent to the cause by way of his collection.

Filed under: Art, Facsimile, My father's HLOs | Comments (0)

Leave a comment

Login


google