I had this remarkable photo find me. It is perplexing to me, because it embodies the fable which does not exist that art means something.All of us have suffered through lectures by the always experts about poetry, novels, paintings, theater, and been asked by the professor what it means to us, and when we stammer out an answer as this crap means nothing to us......the teacher always says, "No it does not mean that."
That has always puzzled me in if art speaks to the individual, and that poem says that to me, then how can I be wrong?
I never have liked art, because what is termed art is not art to me. I remember with 10 days left in school that one of my literature teachers decided we were going to read Grapes of Wrath.
I have listened to those who extol this rubbish in the Joad family in turtles being run over in the road............and daughter's in law tucking in wagging penises of their father in laws in Oklahoma..........how JC in the book was some kind of prototype of Jesus Christ..........and how in the end a woman is having some starving man suck her milk laden breasts to feed him, and all I still do is cringe in even typing that...........as I find John Steinbeck disgusting as it is one step above cannibalism and three steps below David Letterman joking about child impregnation rape.
It is why I decided to not read that awful book, copied the study guide from a friend who wasted his weekend reading that pornography, and raised my hand to answer the first question to keep the teacher off my back..........and am still pissed off that crap was plunged into my life and am stunned yet that people call that literature as it was amateurish at best from Steinbeck.
That is why it is rare I like something..........and I really like the above picture in all it stirs, says and beckons to me.
It is all so beautiful and mysterious in the openness of the woman in an exotic land, leered at by the equally fat latino with his hands in his pants, desiring to get his hands into her's. It is like the Angels going down to Sodom and her looking for Lot's one righteous door to find respite in.
What this conjures up in me is the exact opposite to the revulsion of Stanley Ann Dunham with wet Peggy Noonan panties for the dark meat, and plunging further into monetary whoredoms in working for the Ford Foundation in microfinance.....compared with this Lady who reveals she is searching in this third world in her first world presence, but will never degrade herself, as you could always know in comfort that Audrey Hepburn would remain the pristine beauty and character she portrayed on and off screen.
If you want to see an encapsulation of what Barack Obama, Bill Ayers and Val-erie Jarrett's soul looks like.........it is that sneering, fat portrayal of this latino hating the American Virgin as they can not appreciate her in all her grace as she reveals she is so beyond them, that they must scowl in frustration in how much their emptiness has made them obese in trying to fill that void.
This photo is Sarah Palin in this strange world hating her as she is simply moving through it on her own journey not getting into anyone else's space.
The photo is the anthem of what America is suffering through in this Obama abyss in the reality we do not know if we are going to be saved out of this.........for this is a situation of real danger for all of us.
I hope I have done the Lady due respect and justice in this wonderful form of artwork which is more grande than the Mona Lisa or any tripe Steven Spielberg ever wasted kodak film on.
As I write this, my Heroine has in her little purse a very big gun, like the Mexican peon in the movie Trinity who had a very little knife he stuck into the man who wanted to make love to his mujair, and when he looked into his dark eyes, they rolled back and he fell down.....badaboom.
Art is lovely where it takes you and I like heroines safe and well armed..........it is the way America should be.
agtG
