Queen Pirouette was in no hurry to be coronated. She hated ceremony. Unfortunately, every day of her life since childhood had been governed by ritual. With time, the problem only grew worse. Now that she was Queen, nearly every aspect of her life was subject to strict etiquette.
At eight o’clock every morning, the Chief Lady of the Bedchamber would draw her bed curtains and say, “Your majesty, it is time.” This was called the levée. All of the ladies of the Court would vie for the opportunity to hand Pirouette a piece of clothing. Of course, only the highest ranking woman could claim pride of place to give the Queen her first piece of clothing. By no means was she allowed even an iota of privacy. Everything she did was open to public display, even taking a bath. Tickets were distributed for entrance to the gallery where the nobles could gather to watch her bathe.
Because a typical coronation lasted an entire day, Pirouette chose to procrastinate announcing a date. “Why should I be eager to have everyone see me stripped down to my shift so that the prelates can rub their holy oil on my arms, legs, chest and forehead!” Not even her fiancé, GarGar couldn’t convince her to name a date.
I know that I’m late, but circumstances beyond my control have caused me to divert my efforts to other areas. Please accept this post as my contribution to the Photographing Public Art Challenge. Best wishes, Russell
Here are another one of those ugly birds that the city gave to local artists to paint. It’s another example of what I call “committee art.” When more than a couple of people collaborate to create art, the results are never good. If a symphony orchestra took votes on how to play each piece of music, the results would be catastrophic. If a classroom had more than one or two instructors, how could the students learn anything? I’ve been in classes where the teacher abdicates responsibility. Can you imagine taking votes from the students on whether or not to take an exam?