Friday, April 19, 2013
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Jester, Oil on Linen
Sean Taber
"Jester's Wagon"... 12"x16"
The darkness of the forest clawed at his silk patch work, such unacceptable materials.
Just yesterday he was a man with an opinion, a voice.
A book tumbled from the cart and settled into the filth of the forest floor. With cold fingers, the dirt was brushed from its cover, but the book was forever marred.
His lifestyle had been passed down for generations and practiced with a pride unique to such artisans.
The rotten wheelbarrow rattled over the damp path. A jingle, once rich and jocular, echoed through the forest air, highlighting the vacancy of the world around him.
His talents…. Poetry and song were his native tongue; acrobatics, juggling and magic were his first nature. He was the kings out spoken advisor when most would shake with panic.
As the forest grew darker, the path became slicker. The cart shuddered and its wheel snapped from the ancient frame. With one final groan, the cart toppled onto its side, spilling his precious contents across the decrepit path.
He had once been the King’s source of entertainment. He was an important man. Was. Used to be.
The man looked at his belongings-his entire life-lying in the dirt. He was a Jester no more.
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