FREE for Baron Batch 1. Tell me about your art, Baron. Tell me about the way the frenetic, ecstatic colour leaves the pallet and moves through you like a ribbon curling out of your finger tips or a scarf spiraling from a magician’s sleeve —lime to yellow to turquoise to fuchsia. Baron! Can you hear me? 2. Tell me about the canvas unstretched, unstitched, thin-- FREE as a summer cricket playing it’s wings’ violin in the wind-- can you imagine? An instrument in your body? 3. You said you like to warm up with elephants, you are comfortable in elephants. They are your love language. You’ve found a home in them, and I think there’s something to these untethered creatures lumbering out of your canvases ready to greet each outstretched hand with a trumpet of colour. And not trumpet like Miles, but trumpet like Kermit. High every night! of the week! making beautiful! music in the thick! New Orleans heat! 4. Baron! Once upon a time, they pulled you away, angry for the art you were making in public places, printing words like “graffiti,” like it was a bad thing. The bad kind of art, Baron. Not the kind deep behind museum walls and mandatory donation boxes placed prominently next to gift shops and cafes where you can buy Monet’s for $50 on a coffee mug or a glossy poster ($200 if it’s framed). 5. Baron, they charged you. Fined you. Tried to tie your hands up behind you. But you shifted. You twisted. You pushed up against it– and started making art anew. 6. You even made art with the officer who arrested you. Invited this man into your painter’s home and asked him to create. Did you see something good in him, Baron? Some unsung something? Something beautiful but quiet? Something under the thick flak jacket? 7. Dear Baron, tell me about the gentle souls you see and seek. Are you driven to goodness like some men are driven to madness? 8. Now with tape you hang your boundless pieces beloved elephants, expansive skylines, giraffes stately and playful, even a beloved bounty hunter, all over the city with the word FREE because you are, Baron. 9. And, Baron, I think that FREE might be a tip of the cap to the law, who couldn’t hold you back. But. But. I think more than that, well, I think it’s a sign to us, as we clamber for your canvases in a surreal scavenger hunt around this beautiful city —that you don’t do this for the money and the money doesn’t do it for you. Amanda James Amanda James is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh Writing Program. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and son. Discover more about Baron Batch and his work here.
5 Comments
LINDA MCQUARRIE-BOWERMAN
8/21/2022 01:46:03 am
One of the best things I've read all week....Congratulations!
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Pamela Cecere
8/21/2022 07:59:46 am
What a beautiful poem! I can’t wait to read more from this poet!
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C. Swatek
8/21/2022 10:50:07 am
Beautiful.
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Becki with an i
8/21/2022 11:55:26 am
Such incredible lightness and strength in these words.
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MK
8/21/2022 12:25:26 pm
Brings this artists’s work to life in imagery that is both reflective of the art and yet also imaginative… another voice enriching the conversation. Insightful and a joy to read.
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