Holiday time here at DAMIJWH, see you again in August and as a farewell gift I give you a little story I wrote some time ago.
The Greatest artist the world has ever known.
The Greatest artist the world has ever known was an old man living in a big city.
He had a tiny room with naked wooden walls up under the roof of an anonymous tenement block. Here he went each day after work and made little sculptures, carved out of wood. He had been doing this ever since he was a child. Each of the little wooden sculptures caught the timeless essence of life transformed into Art; Peace and war, love and death, mother and child, lovers at play, men fighting, animals in motion. Masterpieces you would say.
The Greatest artist the world has ever known never took a wife, never had children.
He occupied a menial job and worked all his life at the same place. His changing superiors treated him with slightly condescending respect as a person you can't bother to sack because he fills a position that's hard to replace, but otherwise left him to his duties.
The Greatest artist the world has ever known didn't care about all of that. He went to his little room with the naked wooden walls, put on a brown apron hanging on a nail behind the door and sat down and did his sculptures. A small window in the roof above his head - just big enough for him to see the stars. At exactly ten o'clock he stopped, put the apron back on the nail, walked down the back staircase and passed through a dark, asphalt-paved backyard filled with rusting bicycles and useless TV sets. He walked across a small park, enjoying the darkness, and the coolness of the evening air mixed with the scent of pine trees lining the park. He reached his own tenement block, walked to his one room apartment on the second floor and went to sleep, thinking about his late mother and a girl in a blue dress on a dusty road besides a river. All of it in another world, a very long time ago.
The Greatest artist the world has ever known never did an exhibition, never showed the sculptures to anyone. They were just a game he was enjoying, him and God.
The Greatest artist the world has ever known died one evening alone in his bed and his few belongings were disposed of and his one room apartment cleaned and rented to a nice biology student (at twice the rent as previously paid) The janitor of the building across the park cleared the little room with the wooden walls. He found some funny wooden dolls and gave them to his children to play with. When the children had partially destroyed the dolls, they got bored with them and gave them to the family dog. The dog chewed on the dolls until they were shapeless pieces of wood and then buried them in various places known only to the dog.
The Greatest artist the world has ever known had died a reasonably happy man and God soon found a new playmate.
Panzer: Pzkpfw V "Panther", Ausf D
Parked at a factory or barracks in Germany this very early model Panther was probably undergoing trials during the winter 1942-43 when it was photographed.