An artist commissioned by a city does not know when or how to stop ...
Excerpt:
It's hard to imagine a time before the Fixture graced our lovely city. Yet less than fifty years ago, it existed only in the mind - or only in the dreams - of its illustrious creator. There are some who still remember the city as it was, but they are old, their memories are faulty, and how can you describe an absence, anyway? Not that I question their integrity. That's not what I meant. Scratch out the old and faulty bit with the handy pen enclosed. There, that's better now. Where were we? Oh, yes, the city as it was. It's gone through many changes since those days. The Fixture is not the only thing that's new. In fact, everything has seen some kind of change since then. But in those days, excuse me, it's the telephone. I'll be right back.
Nothing - just the agency. They want to know how it's going.
It was due last week, but somehow I just didn't get around to it. There's been a lot going on these days. Anyway, I told them, 'fine, fine, it's really moving right along. It'll be done in no time'. Now, you and I know it isn't true, but you can tell them anything. They believe what they want to believe.
Doesn't everyone? It might be right in front of your nose but you won't see it till you believe in it.
To get back to where we were... But in those days, in those days what? I forgot what I was going to say. Lets see... in those days progress had begun its Seventh Renaissance. There was new construction everywhere, new offices, new houses, new factories, new everything. Banks and engineers got rich, architects were in demand and didn't have to teach, like nowadays. The standard of living was on the rise. The quality of life was improving. And to go along with all of this advancement, the Fourth Fidelity Bank decided to promote the arts, which could only enhance the city's reputation. After some consideration, they selected Darian Sebastian Fark to build the centerpiece of their new headquarters building. But this is not the beginning of our story. No, our story properly begins some twenty five years earlier, in the little town of, let me see, it's in my notes here somewhere.
I can't find that information at the moment. In any case, it was a small town (I'm sure of that) in one of the Dakotas - I forget exactly which. I have it in my notes, but you should see the state they're in, no pun intended, really. I know it's no excuse, but organization has never been my strong point. Well, let's get on with it. You've paid to hear the story, and I've been paid to tell it. You want to know about the Life and Work of Darian Sebastian Fark, and it's my job to give you all the facts, and nothing but the facts. So then, to the facts: Darian Sebastian Fark as born September 9th, 1962, at 9:18 AM. His mother, Mary Alice Simpson-Fark was a kindergarten teacher, who specialized in finger-paints and brown bag animal masks. She seems to have been the major influence on the youthful Fark, although her philosophy of 'leaving kids alone' resulted in his being left quite alone throughout his formative years. She was usually to be found squatting in her special corner of the small Fark house, playing with herself, and conversing with her dolls, especially Sandra Mae, her favorite.
