Aside from this art-drabble project for National Blog Posting Month (I'll be glad to write something longer than 100 words in December!) I am currently researching for an article I'm writing on taxidermy in art and literature. So, not surprisingly. this piece of Thomas Grunfeld's caught my eye. It's grotesque but it also made me laugh; the bulldog face looks slightly forlorn in a way that doesn't match its body language. Magnus Mills has written a short story especially for Grunfeld's exhibition catalogue, which is bound to be magnificently dark and hilarious, so my drabble here is second to something greater. The exhibition runs until 3rd December at Hidde van Seggelen.
|Misfit (Bulldog/Goat) courtesy of Thomas Grunfeld|
I’m mad, me. Game for anything. “Just do it, man!” I yelped. “I wanna be famous!”
My balls were long gone by then anyway, so what was there to lose?
And they do, you know, they keep me in luxury. No more pedigree chum; it’s fillet steak, choccy chews, premium biltong. Dunno why, but it all tastes the same. That’s one thing. A hurtling stick doesn’t do much for me either anymore, but hey, things change.
But what really gets my goat, so to speak, is the clacking racket these new feet make on a parquet floor. Drives me nuts!