Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Egg-Art! The ultimate expression of 'oneself.'

Art is a personal journey of discovery, be it as a participant or an admirer. It can also be an investment, sometimes owing little to the actual 'love of the object.' There are other variations, using a huge range of 'material, some extreme in the least.

Today I unwittingly expressed myself, using an egg. As usual, I went to the hen-house this morning and gathered the eggs. At this time of the year, my girls are taking a rest, giving me about half their normal production rate. I appreciate their efforts and reward them with little bits and pieces from my walks, the table and from contributions of friends and family.

I picked up the singular warm egg and lovingly carried it inside. I opened a can of NZ's iconic 'go-to' food ... a can of baked beans, and spooned enough to cover the bottom of a mini casserole dish ... I mean really small, here. I cracked the ... BACKTRACK! What on earth has this to do with 'art?' Patience, dear readers.

The baked beans are merely the base, the nest if you like, for my ONE egg. Once the egg was cuddled up to the baked beans, I sprinkled a little bit of pepper and then pricked the egg yolk. There is a reason for the action just described. I crowned the egg and beans ... yes, a somewhat simple breakfast ... with a piece of plastic-wrapped-processed cheese. I know ... my standards are slipping, but hey ... I like my rustic breakfasts.

I placed the lid on the dish put it in the microwave. Now, you know the reason for pricking the egg. Well, maybe you don't. The art is about to be revealed, expressed in a dramatic manner. Some of you will be way ahead by now. Shush ... don't spoil the punchline!

I set the microwave on about 50% and gave it three minutes. I checked it after the allotted time came to an end. The egg was still opaque and need another minute. I took off the lid and pushed the 'quick start' button.

At this point, Perdy, my often described and quite famous Jack Russell, started an almighty, but very common manic barking. She usually ensconces herself on the top of the couch facing the window looking out on the main road. She regularly informs me of the 'goings on and passing by' of traffic; foot, wheeled and other mediums. If a dog wanders past with its mum or dad, all hell usually breaks loose. This time, her barking was at a level that the entire neighbourhood would be aware that something as dramatic as Moses alighting from the Arc ... yes, I know he didn't, but imagine if he did?!

So, Perdy was rewriting the Old Testament and more to the point ... I was distracted. I returned to reality when there was a BANG ... yes, an explosion. It was not originating from Perdy's imagined imagery of the 'view from the couch.' No ... it was from the kitchen.

I wobbled down the corridor and quickly turned off the microwave. Those of you who already guessed the scene that confronted me will be amassing a range of viewpoints. The word ..STUPID ... probably features, Others will be keen to have my report on the 'art-work.'

Pretty would be somewhat lacking and possibly inaccurate, but who am I to assume how you see creativity? I tentatively opened the microwave door. STUFF was overflowing, splattered in a yellow concoction, mixed with white and red ... on the door, the top, the side, bottom, beneath the tray. It was incredible. Eat your heart out DaVinci et al! Food art, micro-art ... cal it what you wish. Ugly? Only if you are the person doing the scraping, rinsing of countless paper towels. I suppose some of you would see the artistic side.

Did I have breakfast? Of course I did! There was a residual portion of the mixture in the dish. My breakfast was tiny, but the cleaning efforts, resulting in a pristine microwave, finished with a cup of lemon-infused water, steaming in the oven to remove those stubbon bits that refused to leave, still went ahead.

My experience with the exploding egg is only about the third time in my lengthening life that I have had an 'egg-full' artistic experience.' Hindsight is a wonderful stance. I could have stuck the arty microwave on the floor, opened the door and let THE PERDY in to lick it all clean! But no ... many paper-towels later and a cup of lemon-infused water, steaming away for three minutes helped to return the microwave to its pristine condition.

Time for my walk, methinks. Come on Perdy!

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