Once upon a time there was a gallery who sat hard and cold while the front lawn was trampled under the feet of kite flying children and chatting parents. Clouds bounced along the horizon and distant waves sprinkled salt in the breeze. The gallery sighed as it watched the day’s joys take place outside while he remained lonely within. The rare visitor walked through his halls like a slumping student fulfilling an uninspiring class assignment. He sulked during each sunset and awoke with the guilt of a collection of work who deserved an audience he could not provide. He fell low and wept.
While he watched the children play outside one day, the gallery pondered a way to bring the art to the guests rather than waiting for the guest to come to his art. His front patio was lit and well organized, but would not do because he would still have to rely on the motivation of others. He decided that he would not wait, but would bring his collection in an aggressive fashion just less than with intrusive force.
He ripped each painting off his walls and out of their frames with clumsiness driven by the impatient excitement of a new idea. He smiled widely and placed each limp canvas in a pile in the middle of the room. With paste and tape, he attached each piece of art to an old shirt. A box was soon filled and set out on the curb in front of his empty walls. Like sheep shaved and left bare and cold, the gallery shivered as he watched strangers take shirts from his box. Slowly, these strangers became recognizable by the clothing they wore and the art they showcased. Like he once did, they served as a wall where art hung to be seen by all. They became a mobile gallery where they brought art to people rather than waiting for people to go to art. Minds became stimulated on the streets and in stores where they once thought of stresses and worries.
The gallery, naked and lonely, sat with a smile. He knew his art and ideas were acknowledged each day. His life became fulfilled and he vicariously lived though the art that once hung from his walls, but now ran wild in the streets.
A mobile gallery finds LaDainian Tomlinson (LT) and transfers a Carlsbadcrawl idea. Thanks Steve for a job well done.
Hold the Bacon t shirt
As the sun goes down and the street lights shine, hoards of people fill the remaining hours of the day hopping from the numerous village pubs and restaurants. Snakes slither while mice dine and laughter can be heard throughout the streets.
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