after the aliens


Three Diaglogues:
the Artist andthe
Viewer Compare Notes

"How long --"
    "Oh no."
        "Come again?"
            "Go on."
"How long did it take you to paint that?"
"Everyone asks that."
    "It looks like a long time."
"A week or so. Not long."
    "What is it?"
        "A field."

"Art's not my line.
I sell toys, plastic toys.
My brother studied drafting
At school.
He's farming now, south of Larned.
He paints stuff sometimes.
Abstract, you know, like yours.
I always wished he'd
Do me one of the farm,
Dad's farm."

"I've always wanted people
To live with my pictures.

"Land goes from here
To far away,
And has no middle;
No single point
Where you can stand
And say, 'This is the center.'"

"One of my brother's kids
Lost himself in a field
Of corn. He knew where
He was, but 'here' was
No different from
Over there."

"Did he get out?"
    "Oh, yeah.
Funny, he took a nap,
Lying in the corn.
Said it felt
Like home.
Then woke up
And walked straight out."

"Why does it take so long?"
"I copy -"
    "You don't say?"
         "- grass."

"My wife's aunt Rose painted flowers. She
Bought some paints from the
Hardware store."
         "Garden City.
A cousin was down with the flu.
Rose bought paints for her at the store,
But they made her sick."
"Cousin Fern. So Rose used them
Herself. Flowers and trees."
    "And grass?"
"Grass, too. The field behind my dad's
Farm. We used to picnic there.
Sitting in the grass, it looks
Like your painting over there,
The green one, with all the little lines.
Like grass."

Jeff Bangert