Annabel And The Artist

Annabel had been a Social Worker

for a good many years.

She’d seen it all,

or so she’d thought.

And then she met the artist.

Neighbours had reported concerns,

but were somewhat vague

about the problems.

She called round anyway.

Annabel was like that.

She was old school,

didn’t work to rule.

The artist’s house was large

and a bit crumbly, dirty and decrepit,

rather like the artist herself, Annabel thought

and she didn’t chance the cup of tea, when offered.

There were paintings stacked up everywhere

and, in the corner of one room,

a large whitish sculpture.

It towered upwards

almost up to the ceiling.

Annabel walked round it pondering

it’s strange shape and texture.

The artist laughed, saying,

“That’s not a sculpture!

Years ago I had a dog

and never got round

to house-training it.

That’s dog shit!

I piled it up.

It went dry,

then solid,

then whitish

over the years!

And here it still is.”

Back at the office

Annabel reported,

there was no cause

for concern.

Time passed.

The artist died.

And today,

her only known sculpture, ‘Untitled’,

is being installed as the centrepiece

of her retrospective exhibition.

Annabel smiles.

https://coldrambler.blogspot.com/2025/01/annabel-and-artist-by-lynn-white.html