Archive for the ‘Art’ Category

Hank and Duke inside the Art of the Pacific exhibit at Los Angeles County Museum of Art


30 Oct

Duke: “Why are we shoved in a closet, Hank?”

Hank: “Do not let your troubles cloud you. Keep fear at bay, for I have not tricked you. We haven’t yet left the museum property.”

“Really, well this don’t smell like no CALMA  to me.”

“Stop it, Duke, for this is a room dedicated to the Art of the Pacific. Touch nothing, for we know how squires are.”

“Hang on, Hank, for this is sure fun.”

“What the devil are you doing riding around a handmade bowl? You obviously did not hear my words of warning. Get out of there before I extinguish you.”

“Sorry, Charlie, but my chariot of thought departed a moment ago. I’m just going around and around, and am not caring or something.”

“You’re going to break that bowl, Duke.”

“You know what, you’re right. I’m sleepy because I’m sick of being thrown around.”

“Allow your king to help you up.”

“You mean it?”

“And not another word about it to anyone.”

“Thanks, Hank, you’re a pal.”

“Stop squirming. No, my right. The other right. Great job, buffoon, you managed to destroy an antique. What are we to do?”

“Relax, Hank, and come beat this drum with me.”

“Stop.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you, Hank because I’m singing. ‘In the CALMAS, the mighty CALMAS, Hank is a sourpuss McGittles.’”

“Your voice is like sipping oleander through a straw. You can raise the dead come to think of it.”

“Thanks, Hank, I’ve always known I possessed a hidden talent. My dream is to sing the unsung billboard of tomorrow. I want a billboard label to arrest me to a contract. What are we doing in this Halloween room if there are no producers to hear my beautiful voice?”

“I brought you here for a history lesson.”

“I like Jurassic history, thanks.”

“Not Jurassic history, but rather a study of a people who congregate together far from here in honor of dead ancestors who came before. You see, this culture is far removed from modernized society. It’s important to learn about all kinds of people, Duke.”

“Hang on a minute there, Hank. This kitty face looks like Uncle Carl.”

“Like Uncle Carl, my word.”

“No, my word.”

“Have at it then.”

“Hank, why is that monkey thing fanging us?”

“Because it wants us dead, Duke. We best put this venture to rest. Quick, left turn at lobster-nosed statue then bolt out the door.”

“Why did—?”

“There is no time. Touch nothing else and simply disappear.”

“Like a magician?”

“Like a magician.”

“But, what about Lallowheen?”

“I bet we can find some locations which specialize in that. Let’s hope we leave LACMA with our souls.”

“CALMA can have mine.”

“Oh, Duke.”

Hank and Duke amongst the LACMA lamposts


30 Oct

Duke: “Can’t see me, not even now, can’t see me.”

Hank: “Quiet, you hypocrite insurgent, while I attempt to see where it is we are.”

“I feel rather chipper thanks for asking, Hank. The legs are working well, too, I think? We’re at a place called CALMA, or something. I dislike running errands, so let’s stay here and play. It’s good exorcisms anyhow.”

“You’re making a fool out of yourself by scaling that lamppost like a feral rodent. Do not become an inferior.”

“How can I impossibly do that when I’m here running, or something.”

“It’s a saying, you selfish observer.”

“Shellfish oyster, where? Please tell me the secret hiding place.”

“Now that you’re off the pole, I must omit I was kidding.”

“That was real mean getting my hopes up and all. Look out, I’m going skinny dipping. And around and around I go, like zing and zang quick. Lightning dynamite speedy.”

“Get down, you look like a rodeo clown. You will direct your king on where to go.”

“Which way to Lully Hood?”

“The world may never know, for we are to feast in the valley of bones perpetuated by this tangled mess.”

“It’s like one a them trees filled with kitties, monkeys and stuff. I wished I had my machete. Do you think any a them bad begums are going to bruise myself?”

“With any luck.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a turn on these pole things? It’s like a carousel without a horsey.”

“I decline your offer, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a stroke of genius. I now know where we should go. This building is one of them artistic institutions. My personal feelings aside, we must scour the intestines of this decrepit hole and learn about the different transforms so to better relate with ‘L.A. people’. Every nation is represented within this tiny intersection of road so it would suit us best to learn and relearn. What better way to do that then to study the formation that brings society together.”

“What’s a spociety?”

“A society is a population at large. Come, much exploring is ahead of us.”

“But, how do we create movement while we’re still between metallic trees?”

“Push your way through.”

“No, Hank, I don’t want to hurt tree friend’s feeling.”

“Push.”

“Why did you just run me over?”

“Because there are many places needing exploring. For instance, we should really go back and visit our trusty dinosaur friends.”

“You mean it?”

“Fool, the art museum awaits.”

“But, I want to visit sours. Fine, but you owe me a balloon.”

“On your own time. Now, come.”

 

Hank and Duke journey towards the Levitated Mass at Los Angeles County Museum of Art (pt. 2 of 2)


29 Oct

 

[photo courtesy of Janine Saunders Sands]

Hank: “There you have it, genius, nothing to worry about. What did I tell you?”

Duke: “You told me that, I think. No, wait, I told you something then you said back to me something like that. I’m shivering up on the top of this rock thing.”

“Indeed, that is true. Help me understand man’s ingenuity and I might consider releasing your family.”

“Why get my hopes up? That’s why I don’t fuss with engines. I think it’s the best invention yet. The way minerals hit the glowing sun always causes me to speculate on what else is out there. Did you say something, Hank?”

“For those few seconds in time, you had quite the vocabulary and was caught off-guard.”

“Where’s a lifeguard? I can’t see what all the fuzz was about.”

“I mean, a floating rock is suppose to impress me. Are they serious?”

“Bingo the dog was a cereal hound, I think.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this rock split in two.”

“Why did you have to speak like that, Hank? You hurt the rock’s feeling. See, he’s trembling with madness or something.”

“It might be too late to move. Hold on, Duke, and prepare yourself for much pain.”



“That was fun. Can we do that a second time?”

“We just had a rock split in half beneath our feet, nincompoop. How were you not affected?”

“I’ve been infected many times but have built up an immunity or something, I think.”

“You are easily amused. How about we pull ourselves together and jaunt towards the museum itself?”

“I like field trips, Hank. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess, now can you feel your legs?”

“I know they’re there. Wait, let me count.”

“You are quite the humorist.”

“Only on sometimes. Wait. I could really use some anchovy pizza.”

“How can you think of food while we’re in this predicament?”

“Pretty simple, I just think of how the fishes smile.”

“Oh, Duke.”

 

Hank and Duke journey towards the Levitated Mass at Los Angeles County Museum of Art (pt. 1 of 2)


27 Oct

Duke: “Boy, am I a breath of wind.”

Hank: “We only turned a sharp corner, nincompoop.”

“I seen the wind shift directions, so we aren’t in a cactus no more.”

“Where on earth have our battered feet taken us?”

“To the Yeti monster’s death lair, or something. I don’t want nothing to do with his sharp sharpness let me tell you.”

“I cannot sense foul play, for this place reminds me of artistic expression gone awry.”

“I give lots of expressions I think or, at least, try.”

“Come, let us go sit on that floating boulder and enjoy the view.”

[photo courtesy of Janine Saunders Sands]

“No, Hank, the Yeti monster doesn’t like company. I’ve heard it through the stringy vine or whatever the name squared.”

“Are those squires being eaten?”

“Depends on what you mean. They have them invisibility cloaks so the monster can’t pick up their sense.”

“You mean scent.”

“Like wafting a piece of paper.”

“Hurry before the sun dips low. The mighty boulder should cool by then and will be far too cold to sit on.”

“But, it’s booby-trapped Hank.”

“Grab your king’s cloak and listen.”

“Will you raise my wife and marry my children if I do?”

“Blabbering buffoon, no ill will come to you.”

“All right, but I warned you.”

J.R. Leyvas

Writer, blogger, aspiring Fantasy author, screenwriter, poet