Today, we the delegates, in consultation with experts, concluded that the problems are big and we are small. This will not come as a surprise. We took into account the arcing trajectory of history, the slipshod and commitee-led development of our conciousness, and our personal experiences in our years of flatting. We are sceptical of our capacity to change and then to remain changed for the rest of time. Bear in mind that the delegates did not elect to evolve amid scarcity. We trust that this is beyond dispute.

Ladies and gentlemen, it is without shame or hesitation that we advocate the abandonment of hope. We will of course continue within the visible framework. God knows we are juggling enough already. We respectfully point out that we, your elected  representatives, cannot truly imagine very big things or very small things, nor things in the deep past or distant future. Our window of vantage is proscribed. Relevant evidence of this can be produced. For all we know, this microphone works using magic. We remind you of our education.  We cannot reasonably be expected to cope. It is difficult enough working this powerpoint or getting the bag out of the vacuum cleaner. You will empathise. We have the relevent graphs.

We fully accept the unthinkable consequences of our actions and have resolved to give them no more thought. We will get in shape and pay more attention to the chore wheel.

Scenario 1:

If creativity is Darwinistic, then it consists of mutation, selection and transmission.

Rehearsals include performers, a director, and a writer.

The start is a single cell. A quote, an action, an idea.

From this, the performers create random new ideas.

The director and dramaturg hunt and kill the ideas that cannot survive in the thematic and theatrical environment of the performance. These ideas will not reproduce.

The writer and their video camera make sure that sucessful ideas are reproduced, not lost or sanded down to nothing by repetition from memory.

The organism grows day by day, by degrees.

Scenario 2:

The play is assembled by a tornado in a junkyard.

-Ralph

I’d rather be the moon than the sun

The little, mystical, vicarious one

You’ll think of the night

Of wolves and of tides

It may be a lie

But it makes a good show

A trapeze act

A fine line

In the blink of the eye

Water to wine

Just a trick of the light

My moment to shine

But never the star

Of the sky.



Copyright Claire O’Loughlin

Found this article and enjoyed these comments left below:

"Could someone explain what the deeper thoughts they have are when looking at a dead stuffed dog with a sign saying I'm dead.

What is the profound statement?"

...

""If all we wanted from an artist was that they could draw, then art would simply be a skill"
Another apology for Mediocrity."

...

"David Shrigley cannot draw
Bob Dylan cannot sing
Clint Eastwood cannot act
Kylie Minogue cannot write songs
The cast of Life of Brian cannot act
Eddie the Eagle cannot fly
JK Rowling cannot write
Eminen cannot rhyme
Teletubies cannot speak

I cannot comment"


More David Shrigley here