What's going on at DelARTe.com: " you don't have to be shoeish........"


Adventures of the FMP, chapter two:

To see chapter one click on the first red shoe.



Surely the cat had something to do with things........

  As it happed, reality took a sharp turn:      


Going to dance,     

but then, on the way, something else occured that put an end to the idea:



Exhibit A, a foreboding;


Galleries often reflect what's going on in society, insurmountable turmoil.


the "Tiger Lillies" put it beautifully: "An I scream dream" (click the lyrics and see the video)





   But, on with the story:

It has be said that one shoe rarely walks alone, as things unfolded further it appeared that this wasn't entirely so.

There was evidence of a quick getaway, so quick in fact that one shoe got stuck again and was left behind .

Judging from chapter one, this constituted a case of: "Near de ja vous" .



Who can say wether the above pictures preceded the pictures below?



   All manner of evidence remained behind, strewn about. Some of it was actually found, possibly to the detriment of others.

However, decisive conclusions were hampered by

by gusts of sporadic and powerful winds that kept changing the scene. Impossible to tell where the event that led to these displays may have originated.

Shoes were strewn every which way leading the imagination to go out of bounds.

Unmentionables, were found, denatured from their cozy lodgings were strewn about devoid of purpose, layed waist utterly.

Closer examination yielded little but a faint smell betraying their owner in the clear forest air.

What might have happened is for at least one to know and for everybody else to guess.

But perhaps I should start at the beginning.

Origins: In their previous life these undergarments enjoyed a pretty warm relationship with their owner and their visitors alike. Off course this couldn't last, certainly not for long. Failsafe isn't in there, their faith was sealed way back at the beginning, at their purchase. There was, as is the traditional custom, an alternate agenda running from the beginning. There were plans for testing the potential customers for suitability. Open the playground, play along and subsequently tighten the noose, testing the grounds further with guinea pigs, perhaps a dog, etc. After that, the roadster would be replaced with a station wagon. Watching TV while knitting little things, you know the drill; time wouldn't stand still after a biological clock face is mounted. The trap was set and baited.


By way of speculation it was likely that soon the rose would reveal its true color, after all the most innocent white is a mixture of the entire spectrum, given the right filter a narrow mix of color was bound to emerge. Clearly a monumental shift in relations was in the offing. Truth is: As things go, they don't always go exactly as planned. Some characters mold better than others, some revolt at the thought of being manipulated. Many simply opt out, but it is fair to say that generally the methods vary greatly. Given the notable absence of an owner of said garments we can only assume that something might have gone wrong, possibly terribly wrong. Prepare for tears.

The next step was to reconstruct what might have happened on hand of the evidence and taking the general surroundings into account:


Alas the exercise lead, as so many things do, to unintended consequences. All this amateur sleuthing bore out the idea of writing a movie script which demanded some some more research at the presumed site of the incident. Having been handed such a bonanza of incidentals a detailed story was bound to emerge. First a provisionary title: "The Lair Bitch Project" a bit misogynistic perhaps, but good sensationalist sport. Raise the odd eyebrows all around! No such thing as bad press, and all that.

The script needed to be worked out along some of the speculations:

     Dial P for pump.

      It all started up hill and went all down hill from there.

All the way, by waterways.

Back in the bay, safe!? Safely?    

Off course there are at least two shoes to be reckoned with and it appears that the other shoe, once dropped, found new and I might add unexpected attention. It turned out that the deed would be done by one of these, no doubt foreign trained, charismatic super fauna rodents trained to remove vital evidence. Cute, and very efficient.


If you are curious, like the oysters, and want to see how things really unfolded

you will have to click on the squirrel's tail to load a small, secretly filmed, movie of the action.

To be continued.


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or call me, in California   510 292 1914                          

or when I am in the EU (43) 0676 540 3265


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