Adventures in mucky water: or, Hell Comes To Frogtown

Yesterday we dredged the pond. We got a sort of pump thing from a garden centre which was supposed to do it easily, but it turned out less easy or effective than we thought, so it was out with the little shrimping net and that worked a lot better.

In the process we rescued a couple of stones, including a round paving slab, that had been knocked in at some point by cats or small people jumping across, I think. There are other lumps down there that were originally meant to support plants or the defunct fountain, but I'll rescue them when (a) the water's settled a bit and I can see what I'm going for and (b) I have some long gloves. I've mentioned my orror of having dirty wet hands before, I think.

The frogs came up to witness the phenomenon. Eyeballs in the sky they can cope with, great big square things vooming through their habitat and dragging it up less so. I've named them Montmorency, Big Arthur and Hysterical Jimmy (because he alternated frantic scrabblings at the side of the pond and total immobility). In the end I scooped him out and put him on the rescued paving slab, and he sat there panting for a while and then hid in the dead leaves beside it. I hope they aren't too traumatised; I didn't hear any party-squeaker noises of terror, but they might be too scared to scream. I also hope I've made at least one mistake with the sexing, or the next generation is going to be problematic. :) But Jan says a clearer pond will be better for them, so hopefully all shall be well in Frogworld.

Today is Jan's appointment at the hospital for a diabetic check-up. The blood sugars have been all over the place, but just yesterday we got back to single figures for the first time in ages. It's hard fighting on three fronts at once; blood sugars, weight and pain management. The medicines for one all seem to have adverse effects on the other two. I don't actually think it's possible to win on all three at once, but that is what we have to do. It really is no wonder we lose the will to live from time to time, is it?

And now I am going to evict Jelly from my lap, pick up my guitar and see how much I've forgotten. Gardening takes up energy, and I haven't done any serious writing or music for days. So it goes.

(no subject)

Apparently an "artist" somewhere has submerged a crucifix in urine and taken a photograph of it, which he has displayed in various galleries under the title "Immersion (Piss Christ)." He says it's a comment on the misuse of religion. Others have taken it, rightly I think (since, after all, the whole point of modern "art" is that you bring your own interpretation to the work, is it not?), as an expression of utter contempt for religion, and some fundamentalist idiots have vandalised the photograph.

I don't condone their action.

BUT.

(You may now imagine, if you like, that we've had the ensuing argument and you have soundly routed me. I don't have the time or energy.)

I did say "you may imagine..."

I'm not looking at comments to the previous post, as I don't have any intention of changing my opinion. Someone who showers contempt on a symbol cherished by many is out to provoke extreme reactions, and nobody should be shocked or surprised when they happen. The vandalism of the photograph exactly parallels the immersion of the crucifix in urine, and one is as valid a "work of art" as the other, though since the property vandalised did not belong to the vandals, the vandalism is also a crime and should be appropriately punished to the fullest extent of the law. Likewise, if the person of the "artist" were attacked or threatened, that would be a crime and he should be protected from such a contingency.

And, of course, none of this has the slightest shadow of an iota of relevance to any form of religion, atheism, agnosticism or the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

I know there are people to whom no symbol is of any importance. The crucifix does not mean that much to me, but all I have to do to understand the motives behind the vandals is to imagine that the crucifix was a representation of my wife, which someone had immersed in urine and then made a point of brandishing in my face. The message comes across with perfect clarity.

And no, I'm sorry, this is not art. Art demands at least some of each of talent and skill and time and effort. Photography can be an art, if it produces something pleasant, moving, thought-provoking (key word: thought) or exciting to look at. I've seen urine. It's none of those things. This was an obscenity shouted out in public, and if this is art then any sufferer from Tourette's syndrome, any drunk outside his ex-girlfriend's house, any football fan after the match, is an artist. No. In the world of street graffiti, in which there can be superb works of art, this is a perfunctory MILLWALL SKINS. Jeffrey Archer's books are art. Eastenders is art. "I'm A Barbie Girl" is art. This is not.

And I'm not going to be looking at comments to this post either. Assume you've won. We'll all be happier.