Vic Bettany.

Vic Bettany.
b. 1948 – d. 2011

When I entered the public house of mourning through the back door, a jackdaw enshrouded in fog cawed discordantly, clashing with the strains of Amazing Grace floating out from inside. Now someone stirs the jukebox into life and the Stereophonics immediately begin to suffocate the piano's elegy.

    They'd all walked in suited and booted, shiny and black like ravens' beaks awaiting worms from the soil. Dull-eyed boys in falsely buttoned waistcoats began handing out crudités from a silver dish to the ensemble, greedily snatched at by fat hands. It seemed as though little expense had been spared in catering for this affair.

    Who was Vic Bettany? He never existed in my mind. My job was simply to serve the double vodkas and coke respectfully. People will be disgruntled when the complimentary food and drink run out, just like at a wedding reception or parents' evening or mandatory training event. The plan was for everyone to be too drunk to care by this point, but it's hard to say whether this will happen. The crowd could be the kind that are easily disgruntled. I'd best just smile and carry on serving.

    Despite this, I'm telling myself not to smile too much. He could have been a wife-beater or a child molester or a rapist or an abuser of animals for all I know. I have to pay my respects though. Perhaps. No-one would be any the wiser if I decided to curse and spit on his grave behind the bar. No-one's looking except for poor old Vic up in Heaven. Or down in Hell. If angels can look down on us from Heaven can demons look up from Hell?

    There are lots of people here. Did all of them know Vic Bettany? Do all of them know Vic Bettany? It doesn't seem as though anyone really cares right now. They're all immersed in conversation with each other about their plans, their weekends, their jobs, their children, their Xmas proposals. The hard part is out of the way, on with the drinks.
It's what he would have wanted, for everyone to have a good time. No one paying any attention to his infidelities, foibles or peccadilloes. They're more concerned with hiding their own. Vic Bettany's face has disappeared from their minds and now just a dull stone,  sterile urn, or blank casket remains. There's nothing left to exhume the truth from.

    Two rowdies from a pub further up the road burst in, ordering shooters, chasers and bombs in an aggressive manner. It's not long before I've lost them in the pre-assembled sea of violence; a whole crowd united in killing Vic Bettany. There are children here too, but no obvious parental figure to anchor them to the deceased. Maybe they're just friends of friends, or maybe they were already here, like me. Do they have a role to perform, or are they just passing through like Vic?

    I'm suddenly unsure if Vic is male or female. Vicarious Bettany? Vicious Bettany? Vicissitude Bettany? Victim Bettany? Perhaps I should raise a glass myself; whatever he or she was is now just a name carved onto the faces of these people and their pasts. Time will erode the edges; we must continue to run our fingers like needles through the grooves or else what is it all for? There has to be more to it than a free lunch and unnecessary small talk.

Corvus Corax

In recent years, biologists have recognized that birds engage in play. Juvenile Common Ravens are among the most playful of bird species. They have been observed to slide down snowbanks, apparently purely for fun. They even engage in games with other species, such as playing catch-me-if-you-can with wolves and dogs. Common Ravens are known for spectacular aerobatic displays, such as flying in loops or interlocking talons with each other in flight. They are also one of only a few species who make their own toys. They have been observed breaking off twigs to play with socially.

Notes on the New Art Exhibition - draft1

The signature is worth more than the other 99% of the piece.
The cost ratio of signature to rest of piece is 99:1.
The exhibition in the gallery is comprised of seven sculptures, each facing into the centre of the room.
Eyes are drawn to the prices, situated below the name of the sculptor and the title of the piece in a font equally sized.
The display says that each piece represents a different facet of human emotion.
There is more feeling in the small wooden bench in the centre of the room which manages to face all the pieces simultaneously.
If eyes were drawn on the sculptures they in turn would see the bench.
The emotional pieces are inspired by acts of vandalism on public property and postcards can be purchased at the gift shop so that visitors can share their experiences with friends and colleagues.
The postcard stand was knocked over once by a delinquent exiting through the gift shop, who was then dealt with appropriately by security.
Art is taught frequently in prisons as it is seen as both practical and therapeutic.
99% of the general population do not work as artists.
There are many benches in prisons, some of which have been vandalised.
An artist could vandalise public property by writing their name on it without permission.
The item could then be sold at an extensively marked up price.
The prized tag is the price tag.
How many artists are imprisoned?
What percentage of the prison population are artists?
What percentage of the general population are prisoners?

Romance in 2011, or, Messages from Granulated Venus

Angel Face
Best Mate
Pamper Me
Cool Kid
I Spy
Spoil Me
Dream Girl
Great Guy
Love You
Sweet Heart
Love You
Grow Up
Lush Lips