The Art of Anish Kapoor (Inspired by Just Mercedes)

[tectak]

christine,

The last six lines are ironic as art and war are such disparate things they cannot really be compared, thus the humor that arises from such a statement. Similar to the statement "have you quit beating your wife?", when you have never beaten your wife. Of course what the speaker is asking and what he really means are also two different things. What he literally asks is can art kill people to save innocent people? What he means is can art save the lives of innocent people? So there is that play on words between what the speaker says and what he means which is meant as humorous. Then there is the juxtaposition of art and war. As they are two entirely different methods to attain two different ends the question is totally senseless, and any true artist would know this and respond correctly, however the vainglorious artist, as Tom labeled kapoor, who is basically a stand in for all of his ilk is speechless and has no answer, leading to the last line "I thought not" and leaving him looking like a fool, which of course he is. Of course one other side to this is that it exposes the military person as someone who has no conception of art. He can only see things in terms of their ability to help or not to help in a war. So he rightly concludes that kapoor's art is a waste, but he does so for the wrong reasons.
 
dale
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

JM,

Is there some reason you are quoting Gabriele d'Annunzio at me? Did I do something to piss you off?    Tom's the one that brought him up, not me. "What a silly sickle we weave." No...that's not quite right is it?

dale

Shit...I am only the massager!

OR sickle of waning moon that

shines on the deserted waters,

or sickle of silver, what harvest of dreams

wobbles a'l your mild flare here down!

Longings short leaves
of flowers of billows from one wood
exhaling all sea : not sing, not cry, does not
sound. On goes vast silence.

Oppressed is my love, pleasure,

the Pope he lives to adore you ...

OR ( and this is important!)sickle waning, what harvest of dreams

wobbles all your mild flare. Here you go!

It's all in the translation. Google rules KO?
tectak