Brain Goo

What people love most at art fairs are things on sticks.

It really doesn’t seem to matter what it is – bug on a stick, sun on a stick, flower on a stick, jupiter on a stick, star on a stick, moon on a stick, butterfly on a stick, strange unidentifiable abstract somethingorother on a stick. And, of course, the sticks can be made out of copper, steel, or al-u-min-ium; they can be painted or unpainted; colorful or dull; six feet tall or teeny tiny. Whatever it is on the stick, people will buy it, and they will carry it around for hours on end, looking at the other art and thinking, “Man, that would look so good if it was on a stick.”

My boyfriend’s theory is that people buy this artonastick because they are nostalgic for days past. Between corndogs, popsicles, and lollipops, we as a people have been raised to believe that thingsonsticks are really the best things of all. I mean, seriously people, handles make life easier. The only downfall to things on sticks that I can think of is where to put the damn stick after you’re finished, if you are unfortunate enough not to have an easy access trash receptacle nearby. In that case, thingsonastick become painsintheass. Art, however, requires no clean up, and is therefore the perfect thingonastick.

One theory I have about the mind-boggling obsession with this particular brand of art is this: people are lazy and have too much shit. Buying something on a stick takes care of both of these issues, with the added bonus of instantly making you a Person Who Buys Things At Art Fairs, which you all know you want to be, even if you claim otherwise. Thingsonsticks are easy to buy, easy to carry, easy to transport, and easy to display. They take away the hassle of having to either a) lug around an awkwardly sized and/or shaped piece of art in the sweltering heat, or b) having to walk aaaaall the way back to your parking spot in the middle of nowhere and aaaaall the way back to the fair, hoping that the one-hundred and seventy-two degree heat inside of your car doesn’t ruin whatever it is that you just spent three-hundred and forty-seven hard earned dollars on. AND, once you get it home, you don’t have to move any art on the walls, or try to squish any more knickknacks onto your table. You simply plop it in the ground outside and you’re good to go! No thinking required – it’s like the Perfect American Solution.

My second theory (because the Lazy Shit theory is so god-awful negative, and I am a ridiculously optimistic person) is this: thingsonsticks are pretty. ’Nuff said. This is why, when I am a grown up person and have my own house and yard and garden, I will buy thingsonsticks and display them proudly, in stratigically subtle yet eye-catching locations. And I will not care about the people who think I am lazy and/or excessive and/or pretentious. Because my yard filled with thingsonsticks will look good.

[Small End Note: A dear friend of mine who also blogs left me a comment on my last post. It read: "You’re third blog entry is the most important one, so I’ll be watching for it!" This is my third blog entry, and in it I have written 514 words about things on sticks. I'm not exactly sure what that says about me, but it sure is interesting.]