Very early morning off to have breakfast at the grille. I was reminded this week while listening to the men show pictures of broken parts of their cars, or other things that they repaired, of my under graduate and graduate work about this generation of old men. How they are likely the last of those who can pass on how to “fix” things. They say it is because most everything is computerized nowadays. I also think it has to do with a lack of interest in repairing when we live in a throwaway society. Just buy a new one. I also wonder if we are witnessing a decline in common sense….certainly here in the United States.
Which brings me to the No Kings Protest here in town. A small town firmly sitting in a red district. I picked up a neighbor who feels that at her age, late 80s, it is most disheartening to know so many still support the most despised president this country has ever known. My job is to drive through the street where the rally is held and honk and wave support for those protesting. My companion returns home feeling a bit less hopeless after she smiles, waves and takes pictures of the locals who have a clear understanding of how much we are losing of a country we took for granted. Neither of us will live to see the repairs that must be done. Nor will we see the support for the man destroying our country waver much. There is simply no way to penetrate blind devotion to their corrupt leader. He is their man and he will lead them anywhere he needs to be. But not these brave and kind people.
Once home, I pulled out this old desk tool for piercing notes needing or having been taken care of and added the image of the biggest deplorable on several sheets just for the thrill of piercing through his midsection. Very satisfying. I look forward to the day when I can stamp “PAID” on each one and pierce them again.
The making of this has inspired me to design an artwork where each of his most hated sycophants can be marched past with their swastikas firmly displayed on their upper arms and then move on to appear behind bars dressed in orange prison garb. I will need a shelf hung in the garage exhibition space to house these new works.
In the meantime, Spring continues to lift the saddened spirits of those of us who need to find ways to lighten the load of what has been foisted on the world at large. Apologies to almost every country out there and the next generations is woefully inadequate.
Now for a bit of British drama….
Til later…