Art Fair on 29th Street

We stroll through another Art Fair at 29th Street, this one with an unusual number of creative, lively, colorful sculptures. And yet you wonder where you would actually place these creations in your small Martin Acres home: Joan of Art's large bronze Humpty Dumpties in various moods and disguises, designed to sit on some designated ledge. Humpty’s various personalities on display. One dyspeptic Humpty with unhappy bags under his eyes smokes a bronze cigarette and holds a bronze martini glass. Another smiling Humpty shrug with palms turned upwards in French c’est la vie fashion. A bronze Buddhist Humpty meditates cross-legged. Even the tiniest bronze Humpties are $90 it turns out, much to Mark’s disgust.

“How much would you pay then, for a small clever bronze Humpty?” I query.

“Nothing,” says he, although he has previously admired them.

“Not much of a supporter of fine art, apparently,” say I.

“Fine art?” he replies darkly.

Jin Powell's booth displays metallic sculptures of lithe figures dancing forward into a strong headwind, wearing colorful strips and drapes of clothing that flow gracefully behind them. Many are female; their uplifted breasts proudly lead the way as they plunge gamely through gale-force air currents, thin wisps of blue/green/purple orange fabric flowing gracefully behind them. Beautiful. Inspiring even, to me anyway. But where to place such art? On the back of the white porcelain toilet allowing tasteful reflection in the bathroom mirror? On the mantel next to the dyspeptic Humpty and the potted plant? Perched on the edge of the outdoor spa to keep us company as we soak?

And what of the hug delicate glass bowls in randomly fluted shapes and shades of orange, purple and blue, matching bowls nested inside them, shining like rainbows in the sunlight? Getting that same shaft of sunlight to shine just so on them in our house would be a challenge.

“We need a larger house,” says he, not really meaning it in the grand scheme of things but offering it as the reason for passing up such beauty. That’s where these pieces will find a home one hopes, in houses where whole rooms, with skylights admitting shafts of purest light are devoted to beautiful art. In a Martin Acres house we look at pictures on the Internet.