Participants:
| Scene Title | That's What I'll Take From This |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The sheep in Battery Park have a purpose and that purpose is revealed to be a pro-evolved statement by the artist. Though some of the people watching, interpret it as they see fit. |
| Date | March 7, 2011 |
Battery Park
All weekend, these sheep had steadfastly frolicked in place at Battery Park. No longer pristine except for the three white ones, they were a colorful bunch. If it was a part of the rainbow, it was on the sheep, little designs, hooves painted. Some nail polish, others had brought sharpie's, every sort of medium was brought out by individuals who wanted to participate in the art exhibit.
But no one knew what the message was.
There were still no signs, no plaque, the man who kept the buckets of spray paints refreshed would only shrug saying that he was hired by the art gallery that the artist worked with to come out here and do this.
Through the weekend it went, pictures taken for the newspaper, tourist - what few still came to New York - taking pictures. Kid would be placed atop and ride the five foot high beasts.
Then at three in the afternoon, rope barriers went up. People were ushered away and it seemed… It seemed that someone was setting up something. Because there was a gnagly man, denim coveralls, puffy black jacket and a simple knit cap who was bypassing the barrier, a man in a suit and trenchcoat with him. The man in the coveralls though, was bearing a sledgehammer.
This would be interesting.
After hearing the rumors of rainbow colored sheep in Battery Park, Laina finds she simply can't not have a look. So, on Monday afternoon, she takes a break from job seeking to sheep-watch. And the sight of the many giant rainbow sheep does not disappoint. Laina wanders from sheep to sheep, enjoying the fresh air (as much as one can find in New York City) and admiring the brightly colored sculptures. Since the barriers that are now erected prohibit further tampering with the sheep, Laina playfully changes the color of a few barrier ropes. Just to have her say. But when she comes across the men who seem to be in charge, she stops to see what they're going to do.
Today Laina is dressed in rainbow colored jeans, canary yellow ankle boots, a rainbow colored pea-coat, canary yellow purse, and a canary yellow blouse. Her hair is carrot-top orange, with matching eyebrows and lashes.
Over —-> There? Is a man wearing a fashionable black leather jacket, black leather pants, dark red turtle neck, red emo-fringe and a black fedora to match his dark sunglasses and he's just watching quietly. This is Raquelle of course as he sips his chair tea latte.
The artist and the man with him wander close to Laina and Raquelle, stopping for a moment, looking around to see who all is gathered. Here and there, business people are walking, students, teenagers, most of the families are gone, in school or on their way home from school. The colored roping - and Laina's doing so - earns a look from the man with the sledgehammer, and then a thumbs up, bobbing of his head in approval.
Laina grins at the man, but waits quietly to see what he's gonna do next. Spotting Raquelle, she gives the hairdresser a wave in greeting.
Raquelle waggles fingers to Laina before giving the man with the sledgehammer a slow nod. He tilts his head to the side before thumbing the side of his nose and adjusts his sunglasses.
What the man does.
The individual bearing the sledgehammer moves forward, wandering through the sheep, as if studying the work that people did in decorating the beast. He drops a hand to the head of one who you can faintly see cow patch beneath some of the thinly painted layers of.. paint.
And then, he hauls off, swings back the hammer and brings it down on the neck of the sheep with a TWANG that echoes around the park, gasps coming from some people, wide eyes and surprise. The head of the beast just topples from the neck of the decorated sheep, dropping with a thud and with that done, he's moving to the next, repeating the process with a swing and a smack.
There are sheep outside. Giant. Metal. Painted and decorated sheep.
Cardinal couldn't help but notice this, on his way back from a meeting, and he just had to come see what the fuck was going on. He's still in his suit, fedora perched neatly atop his head as he wanders into the crowd, his brow furrowing as he observes the ritual decapitation. "Huh," he says to anyone who happens to be standing nearby, "I half expected candy to come out."
Laina watches the destruction and smiles. It has a certain beauty to it. She turns to Cardinal. "I know, right? Rainbow taffy or something."
Raquelle slips a pack of something from a pocket, slipping a patch out of it, working on pushing his sleeve up and placing the patch on the inside of his arm and he shakes his head slowly, watching the sheep heads fall off. "…are you /kidding/ me bitches…" He takes another sip of his drink and pushes his sleeve back down.
No candy, no confetti, just the twangs and thud, some taking one more hit than the other, each all connected in a certain way with their bodies that a good swipe of the hammer will dislodge it, as opposed to the random weight of whomever might have crawled all over it.
Through it all though, he bypasses the pristine white sheep, ignoring it in favor of bringing the sledgehammer down on the neck of one that's completely red with patches of orange and some smartass glued some devil hors on. some of the red is so recent that when the head falls down, it taints the snow, red smeared across it.
"Maybe it's some sort of… performance art," Cardinal suggests with a glance to Laina as she speaks nearby, offering her a wry sort of 'I have no idea' smile, "A statement on how modern society spoils things by overcomplicating them?" A shrug, and he looks back to the man with the sledgehammer, "Guy's got a hell of a swinging arm, anyway."
Laina smiles and nods. "Yeah." She abruptly checks her watch. "Oh, crap, I forgot, I have an appointment." She waves goodbye to the stranger and runs off.
More chai tea is sipped as Raquelle watches the 'show', his expression staying in the category of 'Iiii really don't give a…' and so on. He just sips his drink and watches those heads get knocked off before checking his watch and idly adjusting his sunglasses.
The last sheep takes a hit, sledhmammer hitting home, and it drops with a finality, hammer landing on the ground beside it before the artist strides off to put his hands on a blank sheep, hefting himself up so that he can stand on top of it, throw his arms out. "Thank you people of New York! This… is Sheep. This- " he gestures to the decapitated beasts and the untouched ones around him. "This is my comment on society, on the world as I see it" He points to the colorful specimens on the ground, his grin wide. "Mundanes. Simples. Non-Expressives, those who have been left behind in the evolutionary ladder!"
He gives a bounce on the sheep that he's parked on, throwing his hands up into the air. "Us, Me, Evolveds, the future, the ones superior to the those without the SLC gene."
"Really?" Cardinal pushes forward a bit through the crowd, his voice raising a bit as he looks over the decapitated sheep, "From where I'm standing, you took off the heads of the more interesting ones… is that really how you see yourself? Blank? Uninteresting? The other ones, people loved, they laughed, they played and painted with. I know which I'd rather have decorating my yard."
"Pure!" The artist points to Cardinal when he comments. "These sheep are pure! Untouched! Pristine!"
"…picasso…is flippin' in his grave…" Raquelle mutters softly under his breath, turning to walk around. "I haven't been pure since I was 14! Next time choose a more exciting animal! See how many folks you can get to paint your butterflies!" He chirps before making his way off, sipping his chai.
A smile tugs up a bit at the corner of Cardinal's lips, "So… what, your statement is that the Evolved are 'pure' and 'untouched' and… all look the same? Let me tell you something, sir, I've never met two Evolved who could do the same thing. And I've never met two SLC-negative people who were quite the same either. I don't think I'm really getting your whole message here."
"It's meant to be interpreted how you see fit sir. That's art is it not?" He hops off the sheep, landing with a thud with less substance than the heads of the other sheep. "The evolved, will be the new normal, the new same, and those who are not, will become the lost, killed off, victims of Darwin when the evolved rise" Raquelle's departure gets a glance then back to Richard, even as from across the way someone throws a fist in the air in agreement.
"I think you're misinterpreting Darwin, there," Cardinal ripostes rather swiftly, "And personally, I've never been the sort to stand in line and fit in with everyone else. I'm Evolved myself, my good man, but I'd rather be one of those over there." A pause, "I kind of like the red one, personally. Who decorated all those, by the way?"
"Everyone. I put them up on Saturday. Left paint for people. I wanted the city to participate" Someone else calls out a question as he finishes answering Cardinal, yelling back the answer to the same one who fist pumped the air in support of what he spoke. "Then you -" This to Cardinal again as he starts to head for a small cluster of people, a handheld video camera that's recording this all, likley for his benefit. "Are my kind of man either way sir!" Likely in response to Cardinal beign evolved.
"As the man said, I don't agree with your message, but you've got the right to say it." Cardinal shrugs one shoulder, sweeping a hand towards the painted ones, "…but from where I'm standing, that's what America is all about. Different types of sheep if you must, different types of people. All unique. I bet there were SLC positives painting those the same as there were SLC negatives. You created something that brought them all together to make art and create beauty." He grins, "And that's the meaning I'll take away from your piece here, sir. So thank you for this message of tolerance and brotherhood."
That said? He turns and strolls back off through the crowd, whistling a cheerful little tune under his breath.