A Fairy Tale of Snottingham

 

Once upon a time in a far off land where the rivers ran with gold and hummingbirds darted between the lovely flowers and every house was bathed in a golden glow there came to a city a wandering stranger who had no name, malady just the clothes he stood up in and a head full of ideas. The city was called Snottingham and it was a good place full of good people and all was as it should be in the best of all possible worlds.

He was welcomed with open arms by the cheerful inhabitants and immediately given food and shelter and a place at the table in the grand hall.
When his mead was all drunk and his belly full he sat back and watched as a gallery of weird and wonderful artists paraded their wares before him. There were clowns and jugglers, acrobats and painters, poets and sculptors and even some artists so strange he could not discern what art they were actually presenting..some even said that not presenting their wares was the artwork itself. This bemused our happy traveller and he thought no more of it. All was good and in the best of all possible worlds such a bewildering array of talents was for the best.

Later as he slept the soundest sleep of his life he began to be assailed by strange demons that leapt around his head and taunted him. He saw the hall again but this time the artists, the clowns, the jugglers had all gone and instead he saw only the unhappy faces of the people and merchants grabbing their silver coins and hopping off down the stairs. The wonderful music and paintings disappeared and a moaning and a lamenting filled his ears and the ears of every inhabitant of the land. He awoke with a start and looked around. It was just a nightmare surely brought on by the mead. The room he lay in looked the same, outside the empty hall would look just as it always had done but something felt wrong. He could not put a finger on it but something had changed. In his younger days he had painted the odd picture and written a poem or two that had pleased the masters of other great halls so he thought this a fine opportunity to do so once again. His dreams of wealth, happiness and contentment would be fulfilled in this place of golden opportunities.

Our poor traveller had forgotten one thing. All this happiness was based on the largesse of the Red King who sat on his throne in a far off and magical city to the south. Every day his courtiers would travel far and wide with carts of lovely gold from the never-ending coffers to pour it down on the lovely people and their lovely artforms. There were rumours that that wise and noble Red King had done this to keep all his citizens happy. Also that every coin he gave out came with not only a price to pay but that they were running out. It was a shock when the next day the town-crier shouted out the news all around Snottingham ..the Red King was dead and a new Even Redder King much like the old Red King but just that bit Redder where it mattered was now in charge.

This Even Redder King was a wise and thrifty soul and immediately asked what benefits all these carts full of gold had brought. Up and down the land artists and administrators racked their brains and toiled over documents to present their evaluations…before they could do so the Even Redder King said no more of this tomfoolery and frippery we need to pay for a mighty battle in the wild east end where our finest talents will take on the world. The days of golden carts is now over….once and for all…

So the coffers dried up and the rivers ran with mud not gold and our artists and poets…..what became of them?

Well the great halls remained empty and the poets went back to their rooms and the artists, some painted on until their paint ran out whilst others who had never needed materials lasted longer but their survival was based on joining together and making sure that they convinced the people out in the markets and fairs that theirs was the great and true art even when they had nothing to actually show for it.

These were the best of the magicians our traveller thought . They have turned pure ideas into gold like the alchemists of old. But even here there were problems…more and more artists with no materials left joined their guilds and soon the only art on offer was non-art. What little pots of gold remained were jealously guarded by the newly appointed Dragons of Admistrador…there fierceness when cornered ensured the new Even Redder King at least had some lovely things to lay before the people when they got a little restless.
Slowly the city adjusted to the new regime. The happy hummingbird paradise of old was gone forever but still the kingdom remained calm and the people if not so beatific at least they had new places to enjoy the arts..The palaces of IKEA and CCAN helped soften the blow although some could not tell the difference. Real art had never been so affordable or so lovely for all and the new Palaces would bring new money from all across the globe. This helped the Academies where the Professors of Golden Loveliness who were running out of coins too were starting to feel the pinch and having to take less hoilidays each year…..these were serious times.

Our traveller had brought some questions for these artists and professors….but they did not like these questions..

He asked why some of the loveliness that had been created in the golden cart years looked so poor and lacklustre now ..surely with all those billions of coins pouring down the art would be equally magnificent and last forever too. The more he enquired the less he found out and then he realised that a lot of this art either did not exist or had been an illusion all along…

It was the pouring that was important as it kept up the impression that everything in the old Red King’s kingdom was well. The people who made this art could have been dangerous critics of the old Red King if he did not keep their bellies full and their circuses running.

Slowly the people of this best of all possible worlds realised that their artists were no longer happy and that some were talking of supporting another and nastier Blue/Green King who wanted to paint the world a different colour.

Panic started to set in to the little artists camps and they started to argue and grab as much gold as they could before heading for the woods. Soon the forests around Snottingham were full of camps of performance poets, constructivist sculptors, derridaesque clowns and old fashioned and grey-bearded painters and painteresses. There was no longer any harmony, no lutes and mead….just hovels full of application forms…

The new BlueGreen King rode into a deserted city after a snap election and took over and banned these people forever…he never had liked art anyway so that was pretty much a no-brainer for him.

As out traveller was escaping the new BlueGreen King he ran into one band of these artists who were now called Art terrorists. He recognized them from their wanted posters and their rather too tight green tights..the uniform of the eco-warrior artist clan…..they swung down from the trees and surrounded him..their green hoods and baseball caps hiding their eyes….

He was not worried surely these defenders of the true faith would save him or at least let him through safely to continue his quest. One even had a ‘nice’ middle class name …..Robin and he surely came from the posh end of town…

Sadly they didn’t because times were tight and funding had been removed they were forced to mug him, they took his mobile phone and wallet and pissed off…

Moral of this tale

Don’t believe in fairy tale endings….or art that never was and carts full of gold….leave that to the Leprachauns.