It’s the dark of night. The moon is full. The goblins are out and
about cavorting. A solitary figure hunches over a mammoth cauldron
which sits over flaming logs in the midst of a forest of humanity.
He is about to work his brew. He had studied medicine at one time…
realized his knowledge of anatomy could be put to better use… and
became that rarest of earth’s thumbed bipeds… an artist. His was a
decision born of passion. Caution was for the Hoi-Polloi.
It’s strange and magical… this roiling vessel of his soul… for
it holds within its angered belly contents such as defies most
concepts. He reaches into an old burlap sack and rummages about. He
then retracts and throws into the agitating liquid a piece of Amber
from Poland. A puff of steam bursts upwards. The process begins. He
reaches in again and pulls out a batch of ideas and images. They
squirm and fight to be free. But he holds on. They are not ready.
They have not yet fully taken shape. Upon close inspection… one can
see skulls. It’s a topic that has always drawn this artist’s
interest. He reaches in again. The sack is quivering as if unable to
contain itself what with the impending thought of the ideas it’s
about to regurgitate forth. The artist grabs blindly. He knows enough
to know that at times it is best to surrender the exercise of
creation to the fates. The skull stares up at him from the boiling
liquid. It grins.
He reaches into the sack again and again. Creation is leaping into
the cauldron as if of its own accord. The wild adventurer mentality
of the American Empire seeps into the thickening liquid of ooze.
North Korea… war… death… a yellow peril? Is this how ideas are
born? Is strife the semen that fertilizes the creativity of the
artist? Pirates cross the oceans to plunder foreign lands. The Jolly
Roger flutters in the wind with deadly threat. Soon the enemy will be
dead… and all that remains will be the yellowed skull and bones of
the hapless victims who dared to cross paths with the conquerors.
Yellowed bones and yellowed skulls. One more element needs to be
tossed into the cauldron. The artist reaches into the folds of the
burlap and tugs and pulls and finally wrenches the reluctant ogre
free. Its name Inspiration. And it brings with it a myriad of lesser
sprites. Extra terrestrials float in the vapors above the cauldron.
Death grabs their other-worldly hands in order to dance the dance of
the macabre.
And a form is given birth. A monstrous face… huge glowing eyes…
an evil grinning skull… yellowed by amber… keeping within its
skeletal shape secrets–much as governments do–secrets whose main
purpose is to instill fear into the populace… for without fear…
governments can not rule.
And so… ladies and gentlemen… friends and foe… admirers and
detractors of Tidbits… I would like to introduce the artist… Mr.
David Hensel. He lives in the UK. He’s quite an impressive fellow. I
rather take to his art. David… these are my people. Don’t be shy
folks. David’s quite a nice fellow. And should any of you folks want
to see more of his work… it’s available for viewing at:
www.hensel.co.uk. Did I mention that David has been invited to–and
did show his work at the Royale Academy? Yes yes. This guy ain’t no
slouch.
For those of you who are new to this thing called Tidbits…may I
direct you to my home page at www.tyler-adam.com where you will
scroll down the left side menu till you get to the area that says
Current Tidbits… and then click on it in order to view a brooch
called The Yellow Peril… and while you’re viewing… you will also
be viewing an image of the image… an artistic rendering of an
artisitic rendering. You want depth mes amis? You want depth? You
got depth.
And there ya have it.
That’s it for this week folks.
Catch you all next week.
Benjamin Mark