This weekend I took my friend Frank to Picnic Day. An annual event at my old school, UC Davis, Picnic Day invites alumni to walk around, eat food, and look at exhibits put on by students.
All I intended to do was eat and see a few friends, but then we found out about an exhibit I had never heard of before: maggot art.
Maggot art is sponsored by one of the biology departments. The students and faculty observe while adults and kids use a tweezers, dip maggots into latex paint, and let them run around on paper, creating works of art:
The Maggot Art web page claims that no maggots are harmed during the making of these masterpieces, but Frank and I saw the kids pressing the tweezers too hard.
“My maggot isn’t moving,” a kid complained.
“He’s sleepy,” the science student said, retrieving the paint-covered maggot corpse and giving the child a new one.
No maggots harmed during the making of this art? Give me a break. And another eyewitness claims one of the kids ate his maggot.
Let’s face facts: Children are maggot killers. Everyone who has a child is unleashing the equivalent of maggot genocide upon the world. Soon the entire environmental balance of the planet will be thrown off, thanks to these tiny, paint-slinging bug murderers. I ask everyone to rethink this whole procreation thing before it’s too late.
(And I’m not just incensed about this issue because the kids hogged the maggots and Frank and I didn’t get a chance to make any art before the booth closed.)
We did, however, manage to go to the young democrats booth and get free sunscreen. Only democrats hand out free sunscreen; republicans would be all “You forgot sunscreen so fend for yourself and learn a lesson for next time.” And, of course, they would be correct. It didn’t help in my case anyway; I always forget how balding I am, and I forgot to slather up my widow’s peak. So there’s a section right at the edge of my hairline that got burned. It looks like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer’s half-submerged nose.
It was a nice day, although it’s interesting hanging out with Frank because I only know her because she started leaving comments on this blog. Friends will ask me, “How do you know each other?”
And I forget that not everyone speaks geek: “I know her because she makes comments on my site.”
“What’s wrong with your sight? I thought you wear contacts.”
I’m curious ... did they wash the maggots afterwards? Great concept :*)
I’m trying. I’m trying really hard, but I just cannot get behind Maggot Art as a “Great Teaching Tool.” Nononononono. Not in MY classroom, bub. I’m sorry you didn’t get to try it. Kids can be such pigs with their slimy, squirming denizens of spoilage and death.
I am thinking worms would create more interesting images.
New t-shirt “Use a condom; save a maggot”
Maggot art, huh? That reminds me of my older brother pulling the wings off flies. Except HE never had the imagination to then dip them in paint. I am SO going to do this as a project with the granddaughter using worms. She loves projects and worms, so…
I’m struggling for a metaphor here. Maggots are ephemeral - soon they’ll be flies. Not as beautiful as the caterpillar becoming a butterfly, so the art project allows the maggot to create beauty nature has denied it. OK- a maggot becoming a generator of beauty. A metaphor for . . . ?
P.S. Do maggots involved in student art projects pay more for life insurance than your everyday maggot?
Why don’t those young democrats do something about the cruelty to maggots going on right under their noses?!?
New Schwarzenneger campaign motto when he’s touting his devotion to education: Maggot my day, punk!
That sounds like a fun art project maggots? i want to try..
But the real question is…
Did you put your hand inside the cow?
Maggot art. HUZZAH!
You could always make up a story about how you met at a coffee shop and debated Ayn Rand.
From now on it is fully my intention to make stuff up about how I met Mr. Howard. “Well, Greg was cruising the Castro and mistook me for a tranny, but we got to talking...”
We didn’t have a cow, so to speak. Didn’t see it this year.
I think the real tragedy is that some of those maggots they dumped in the paint, really were much more talented in the area of interpretive dance. You can’t just tell a maggot which muse to follow - a maggot must choose for itself. The passion of maggot art cannot be denied!
I know what you mean about not knowing how to ID a blog-based relationship, too. “On-Line Friend” sounds so tawdry. “Cyberbuddy” sounds imaginary. Maybe “multidimensional being from beyond the screen” would work. Because otherwise people would think I was weird.
wow, picnic day. i’d forgotten all about that. it sounds fun. but ... maggot art? methinks the biology department has changed slightly since my days as an undergrad there. of course, i never took a biology class, so who knows. still.
(as for the whole blog-buddy thing, i just tell people i’m picking up guys i met on the internet.)
Dan, will you be my multi-dimensional being from beyond the screen? (My unidimensional friends aren’t nearly so funny!)
Did you see Caryn, or have you foresaken her now that she’s studying to be a lawyer, you Young Republican you?
Won’t the maggots’ breathing equipment be blocked by all that latex paint?
Did you have time to wander out to Dos Coyotes, Cafe Italia, or Murder Burger? I guess I am sad when I remember a city by its food.
Editor:
What’s all this hubbub about faggot art? I’ve always found the homosexuals to be particularly attuned re: aesthetics, and regardless, your harping strikes me as more than a little backwards. Why, from Oscar Wilde to Cole Porter to Eminem, homos--
What’s that? Oh. Well, that’s very different. Nevermind.