When Wobbly and I got together last night to work on the Goat, I took the opportunity to ask him about the Third Artist.
I tried to follow his story through the twists and turns of waiting at the train station for a half an hour in the cold to Dr Hal at the Odeon Bar and Mark Ryden's book of Blood (which he produced from one of his many pockets for my skeptical eyes-- with slightly foxed corners) and meeting Mark's brother who claimed to have "started it all" to taking seven year old boys to trainstation men's rooms that were unfortunately closed to meeting artists a couple of weeks ago and then running into said artists' agents-who-somehow-knew-about-the-APE-table and would Wobbly like to buy a print or two?
He seemed to be reliving some sort of trauma in the retelling of his tale, so when he came to the end, I didn't press for clarification.
Thoughts on Surrealism.
Fortunately, the bottom line is No. Wobbly didn't think that MB's art was up to Happy Goat Standards.
We drew for a couple of hours over borgias and spanokopitas in the happy cacaphony of cafe voices. At seven o'clock, a enthusiastic couple discussed various sorts of Chemical Bonds and Inter-Laboratory Politics. At three o'clock, two attractive middle-aged gents masticated over the Fluctuations of the Market over their Laptop and Cappucinos.