Showing posts with label Degas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Degas. Show all posts

Tuesday, 24 August 2010

Giraffes Would Make Good Firemen

Re the last blog (First and Last Traverse of the Fireplace): I’m going to offer my next-door-neighbour this ‘lost’ photograph of a headless giraffe, to hang in place of his missing chimneybreast. Look at the legs. They have all the ballet-grace of a Degas. And anyway, this ‘lost’ giraffe is the perfect replacement for a stone fireplace. I’ve counted 227 stones on the fireplace, and I’ve counted 129 patches (is that the right word for them?) on the giraffe. Now the giraffe’s lower-legs are blurred (he’s moving out of the picture), but that works in our favour, as there must be more than a hundred or so tiny patches beneath each knee. But all is not lost. If you count the number of dark stones on the wall of the barn in the background – only counting the stones as dark as the dark patches on the giraffe - the figure comes to 98. Add that to the giraffe’s 129 and you have a total of 227, the same amount as the number of stones that make up the fireplace. Giraffes would make good firemen, too.      

Saturday, 21 August 2010

First and Last Traverse of the Fireplace

I followed Perec’s advice, but I didn’t expect to make the first and last traverse of my next-door-neighbour’s fireplace. I’ve lived next-door to an unexplored climbing wall – slept a brick or so away from virgin rock – for years without knowing it. And to think all this time I’ve been pulling (on a bar) in my hall, I could have just popped next door and hung on my neighbour’s wall.  But it’s gone now - the firewall - I had to help him dismantle it, stone by stone. Degas’ The Ballet Rehearsal hangs there now.
I wonder, would it be perverse to blow-up the fireplace traverse – life-size - and paper my sitting-room wall with it (on the other side of the wall on which it once really existed), like a mural? And why not, I smoke a lot? I rather like the idea of a fireplace leaving home - moving house. But looking at it now: I don't think so. The rubber-gloves suggest surgery. The removed chimneybreast looks too much like an operation for throat cancer.