Une Tempête Merde in Blue

The oil paint on canvas is
So carefully applied
The small runny nosed prodigy
Sits loyal by his side

For every stroke his father makes
The child too will blot
Not acrylics but finger paint
Mixed in with drool and snot

When daddy says “Now run along
And I’ll talk to you later
I’ve an important meeting with
A local art curator.”

The woman walks in to the room
Her eyes become affixed
On artwork that lies on the floor
She says “I must have this!”

“Watercolor? Oil based?
What is the sentiment?”
Does he say it’s a pink cyclops
Paint mixed with excrement?

Excitedly she asks the name
It’s clear she has no clue
He finds the French translation for
‘A Shit Storm in Blue’

But too late she commissions it
As debutantes abound
Displayed in the most prominent
Art gallery in town

Then bought for many thousands it
Is displayed in the hall
Of one of the most reputable
Buildings of them all

Where studied are the abstract shapes
The meaning of the art
Reflections of the tortured soul
The bearings of his heart

And some with eye for keen detail
Will wonder what’s implied
By the green globule that’s smeared
On the upper left side.

This poem was inspired by  a conversation I had with Amy at Petals Unfolding and the post she wrote, where we decided her image of mud on a chair looked like a piece of high class artwork.

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57 thoughts on “Une Tempête Merde in Blue

  1. OH, Marissa, this is TOO funny! Again, by the stroke of your pen, pure genius comes forth. I was waiting for “mud prints designer jeans” but this is just as good if not better!!! You have made me laugh, and have given me such a strong bond of friendship today, which I take both with me in my gardens this day. Thank you, Marissa, for being a part of my Life, and I am SO touched that I inspired another Masterpiece from you. Have a wonderful day, my friend! My NEW macro lens is coming today so not only will I be in dirt, but I will be behind a camera as well. Sending Much Love to you! (((HUGS))) Amy ❤

    • You know, I started it thinking about coming to a fashion show in mud spattered clothing and ending up on the runway but then it just got too complicated thinking about how they got mud spattered…and how it was only their clothing, so I just took the idea and simplified it so there wouldn’t be too much left to explain. I’m so glad you liked it. Yes, it’s great how other blogs or even comments can set me off! Thank you for the inspiration! Can’t wait to see what your macro lens will yield!

    • Yes, well my daughter actually has a nice eye for color but of course basically produces scribblings. All the same, you would be amazed how it holds up to some of the high priced artwork that sells out there!!

    • Oh absolutely. We always here that someone’s 2 year old made something out of paint they found on the floor and it ends up selling for thousands. Then we look at something my daughter scribbled…

    • Oh no, me neither. I had a boss who liked it and I was always forced to say something about how cool it was but I never really got it. I’m sure that came through in my comments.

  2. The title alone gave me a huge smile. It sounds so much more elegant and sophistocated in french compared to the english. Loved the poem. Your usual humour shines through brilliantly 😀

    • Indeed! Sorry if it was a bit grotesque. Sometimes I just can’t help myself. Hey, do you think we could actually sell a dirty diaper to an art gallery…? Oops! There I go again!

  3. There is a wonderful book called “Seven Days in the Art World”. The opening chapter she spent in an auction house in New York City. She said that some people purchased art based on the size. Could it fit in the elevator of their Fifth Avenue apartment building. The big question for some was would it go with the sofa.

  4. This was such a fun read. You made my day! I raised a congress of budding finger brushed booger artists. They eschewed the paper I bought them for the wide expanse of walls. Their specialty was augmenting their favorite cartoon character on the TV screen. The age spread between daughters and grand daughters ensured the fun and production of booger-art will never end. Although, sometimes, I wish it would. 🙂

  5. Marissa, you will never guess, so I went outside this morning to take out the trash, and during the night, apparently some creative teenager spray painted a nice, big, blue name: Pinky..on the back of my formerly perfectly white storage building. I immediately thought of the S. Storm in Blue!

    • Wow, that’s really…uh…funny??? I’m sorry your building was defaced but I also flattered that you thought of my poem. Hopefully the kid in this poem sticks to canvases!

  6. mikesteeden captured it with his video response. Ohh..the Brits. My boyfriend is actually a gifted and studied artist. It’s so frustrating to see splatters of paint fetching such high prices. Don’t get me started on Jackson Pollock!

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