The Audience

Artica is a family affair. Anyone who wanted to hear some music, see some visual art and hang around beneath the colorful ruins of the Cotton Belt Railroad freight terminal came along. Bring the kids.               

GOOD QUESTION

 

One of the works on display at Artica last weekend. The question in front is rarely considered by most of us. Saying "I just like it" is unsatisfying. Maybe the question requires a real interest in art rather than casual glances. On the other hand, the poet Archibald MacLeish coined the well-known phrase, which can be used in a broader context, "a poem should not mean but be."

And as to the two questions in the rear: I think I have a fair idea of where I am. I have no idea where I am going. Life has far too much randomness to make such predictions.                       

WHO WAS THAT MASKED MAN?

You have to be as old as I am, or close, to get the reference in the title of today's post. It was often the closing line of the Lone Ranger TV show, said in awe by a townsperson as the mysterious cowboy rode away, having banished all evil from some frontier settlement.

The people at Artica were good about masks and I had a way to record some of them. My contribution was to set up an outdoor photo station just inside the entrance. Give me your name and email address, get your picture taken and I send it to you with a festival logo on if as a souvenir. Some interesting people passed by. I like the coordinated accessories on this guy.                 

THE SMELL OF POETRY

I've mentioned that Artica is nothing if not eclectic and free-wheeling. This man, who declined to give me his full name, had an ancient Underwood portable typewriter, one with a distinctive aroma to him. He claimed it was a century old, and it just might have been. He had small sheets of brightly colored paper, and would write you a little poem on request. He did one for my granddaughter, Ellie, which read:

we await, wondering

what is he writing?

anything can be.

the dance beat, bassy

speakers and sound system

recorded musicians uplift

and agitate the atmosphere

 

             

SURE IT'S A PARADE

A sparse one, perhaps, but with enough spirit. Artica's parade goes from the entry gate to the edge of the Mississippi River. Marchers are invited to bring something that they will float down the great waterway, carrying their wishes and dreams.

There are usually many more people but, of course, the virus depressed the turnout. Those who turned out had lots of percussion. You can just see Ellie bringing up the rear.