FArt
Unfinished Digestion
2000-2005
mixed technique 110x90x6 cm
Dedicated to fast food ‘The Farter From Sparta’
A musical student from Sparta
Was a truly magnificent farter
On the strength of one bean
He’d fart God Save The Queen,
And Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata
his fart to suit any occasion.
He could fart like a flute,
Like a lark, like a lute,
This highly fartistic Caucasian.
His fart for no money would barter.
He could roar from his rear,
Any scene from Shakespeare,
Or Gilbert and Sullivan’s Mikado.
And fizzle a fine serenata.
He could play on his anus
The Coriolanus:
Oof, boom, er-tum, tootle, yum tah-dah!
Was a truly magnificent farter
On the strength of one bean
He’d fart God Save The Queen,
And Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata
He could vary, with proper persuasion,
his fart to suit any occasion.
He could fart like a flute,
Like a lark, like a lute,
This highly fartistic Caucasian.
This sparkling young farter from Sparta,
His fart for no money would barter.
He could roar from his rear,
Any scene from Shakespeare,
Or Gilbert and Sullivan’s Mikado.
He’d fart a gavotte for a starter,
And fizzle a fine serenata.
He could play on his anus
The Coriolanus:
Oof, boom, er-tum, tootle, yum tah-dah!
He could double-stop fart the Toccata,
He’d boom from his ass
Bach’s B-Minor Mass,
And in counterpoint, La Traviata.
He achieved new effects with bubbles of gas.
With a good dose of salts
he could whistle a waltz
Or swing it in a razzamat
He rendered quite often, with power to spare.
But his great work of art,
His fortissimo fart,
He saved for the Marche Militaire.
The William Tell Overture Storm,
But naught could dishearten
Our spirited Spartan,
For his fart was in wonderful form.
He’d boom from his ass
Bach’s B-Minor Mass,
And in counterpoint, La Traviata.
His repertoire ranged from classics to jazz,
He achieved new effects with bubbles of gas.
With a good dose of salts
he could whistle a waltz
Or swing it in a razzamat
His basso profundo with timbre so rare.
He rendered quite often, with power to spare.
But his great work of art,
His fortissimo fart,
He saved for the Marche Militaire.
One day he was dared to perform
The William Tell Overture Storm,
But naught could dishearten
Our spirited Spartan,
For his fart was in wonderful form.
It went off in capital style,
And he farted it through with a smile,
Then feeling quite jolly,
He tried the finale,
Blowing double-stopped farts all the while.
But it did not dismay him one bit,
Then, with ass thrown aloft
He suddenly coughed...
And collapsed in a shower of shit.
Where they buiried the rest of our farter,
With a gravestone of turds
Inscribed with the words :
“To the Fine Art of Farting, A Martyr.”
From:"The Limerick" Edited by G. Legman
And he farted it through with a smile,
Then feeling quite jolly,
He tried the finale,
Blowing double-stopped farts all the while.
The selection was tough, I admit,
But it did not dismay him one bit,
Then, with ass thrown aloft
He suddenly coughed...
And collapsed in a shower of shit.
His bunghole was blown back to Sparta,
Where they buiried the rest of our farter,
With a gravestone of turds
Inscribed with the words :
“To the Fine Art of Farting, A Martyr.”
(1938-1948)
From:"The Limerick" Edited by G. Legman
An elaborate letter ‘F’ is surrounded by an even more elaborate copy of a baroque frame.
Fast Food is always too rich, often remaining undigested. This work is dedicated to it, and the title reveals a natural consequence of this ‘fast and heavy’ way of life, as well as being a play on the voluptuousness and over-pretentiousness of baroque fARTs.