The Princess of the Plinth (Part 4-- conclusion)

                    Merry Christmas!

          I hope everyone is having or has had a wonderful Christmas day.  On this day I will be visiting my son in Virginia and then travelling on to beautiful East Tennessee for the remainder of the week.  And now to finish the story of "The Princess of the Plinth".

....continued from yesterday:


 As the weeks progressed, the future seemed to be taking shape for Maxine. The Liverpool Daily Post did a story about Maxine and on the front page there was a picture of her on the plinth. After being invited to a reception at a local gallery, she met others in the arts community and was able to gain an outlet for showing some of her works. She received an offer for a part-time position at the gallery. She also received a stipend to enroll in the arts college. Her dreams were finally becoming realities.


Months later, Beryl and Maxine met for a celebratory evening meal together. Maxine’s busy schedule had kept them apart and they had much to relate to one another. Most of the news was from Maxine since hers was the life that had become so filled of late. Beryl was happy for her friend. Maxine was thankful to have Beryl as her friend even though they would not be seeing as much of each other in the future.

After dinner, Beryl suggested that they pop into a pub for a drink. They went into one of the pubs in their neighborhood. It was a quiet place where time had seemed locked into a past era. Two older gentlemen sitting at the bar watched as the two young women entered and joined them. One of the men wore wire rimmed spectacles and looked quizzically at the women as they sat down. His friend, a stocky man with muttonchops, looked at his friend bemusedly. Then they both looked at the young women

Beryl, ever the outgoing one, nodded and said hello to the men.

The barkeeper took the women’s orders and poured their drinks.

Mr. Muttonchops finally spoke, “Good evening ladies. And what are we celebrating this evening?” He had a friendly glint in his eyes.

“Our good fortunes in life,” answered Beryl. “Things have been turning out really well for us.”

“And how so?” asked the other man.

“For one thing, Maxine’s dreams have come true,” Beryl explained, then added, “She’s an artist.”

Maxine turned slightly and giggled sheepishly into the back of her hand.

The whiskered man perked up. “Is she famous?”

“She was on the Plinth,” Beryl said to the two men beside them.

“The what?” asked the bespectacled man, “You say she rode on a blimp?”

“No, not a blimp—the Plinth!” cried Beryl. Then she further elaborated, “She was on the Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square. She looked just like a princess.”

“Yes, yes—I saw it on the telly, I did. And in the Post. Something to do with art they said. Why she’s a celebrity of sorts,” the whiskered man said with heightened animation. “Barkeep, give the Princess of the Plinth another drink on me and one for her friend too.”

Both men raised their glasses. “To the Plinth,” toasted the whiskered man.

A congenial laughter was shared among the group. Celebrity, Maxine thought to herself. This plinth thing would be remembered for a while, perhaps, to some people. It might be good for a free drink like now or just a tad of recognition—something for conversation. Princess of the Plinth was not who she was, but a part of who she was.

She thought back to her hour on the Plinth, looking about at the buildings, the street, and the people passing below. Some of the people were merely passing by consumed by their own business, while others stood there in Trafalgar Square looking up at her. Maxine imagined herself as one of those stopping to look upward to that person on the top of the Fourth Plinth. The person set out from all the rest, high above them all, and for that moment in time unique among any other in the world. And as she looked up, Maxine saw herself.

The End
 
            The characters in this story are all imaginary, but the basic event is real.  The event was British artist Antony Gormley's One and the Other project during the summer of 2009.  For 100 days between July 6 and October 14, 2400 people took their turns at one hour each on the empty Fourth Plinth in London's Trafalgar Square.  Each person had the option of doing whatever they wished as long as it was legal.  The event was streamed continously over the internet on the special website devoted to the project. Participants were chosen by a national lottery in which nearly 35,000 had applied.
 
           Thank you if you have taken the time to read this story.  I'd love to have your take on the story I have presented over the course of this week.  I have not yet taken the time for any final edits or rewrites so please feel free to make any corrections or suggestions you see fit.  The story was written on a whim after I discovered the project and began following it on the internet in mid-August. 
 
              If you had been chosen to participate in this project,  how might you have spent your time on the plinth?  Were you aware of this project?  If so, did you follow it and what did you think of it?  Do you call this art?  Have you been to Trafalgar Square and seen the Fourth Plinth?

The Princess of the Plinth (Part 3)

.....continued from yesterday:


She reported to the project welcome center and under the professional direction of the representatives of the organization she was meticulously guided through the process. She was led to a change room where she donned her special fine looking dress and carefully adjusted the tiara onto her head. Looking at herself in the mirror, she held her head up and pronounced with amusement, “There! I shall be the Queen of the Plinth.” She paused with uncertainty and bit her lip. “No perhaps that would be far too pretentious. After all we have a Queen. No, I shall be the Princess of the Plinth!” She was pleased with the alliteration of the title and decided that this would be far more artsy. Now she was ready for her hour of glory or gaucherie.

As one of the staff members attached a wireless microphone to her dress, he explained what Maxine could expect and assured her that she would be safe and that if she fell off that she would fall into the net that had been mounted around the upper portion and that so far no one had fallen off or had gotten hurt. Maxine felt a little more relaxed but nevertheless apprehensive about her appearance before not only the crowds assembled in the Square, but also the thousands, perhaps millions, watching on the internet. Maxine mounted the green metal platform on the hydraulic arm of the bright yellow JCB tractor that proceeded to make its way across the square. Then she was filled with exhilaration as the lift arm raised the platform high above the square and over the top of the plinth, settling gently onto the edge of the plinth. She was breathless. The gate of the platform was opened. Like the changing of the guard, the present occupant of the plinth entered the platform and Maxine stepped onto the Plinth. The two exchanged cordial greetings. The exiting plinther, a slightly plump lady with frizzy hair and a cheerful round face, encouraged her with a “have fun!” as the platform drew away.

Now Maxine was on her own. The day was splendid, with lovely clouds wafting overhead and a pleasant breeze caressing her. The view far exceeded any expectations that she had before she mounted the Plinth. Her eyes widened with wonderment as she surveyed the scene around her. The beautiful buildings that had stood there for two hundred years or more looked like they did in the pictures she had seen. There was the National Gallery (oh, if only she had time to explore the art housed there), the St Martin-in-the-Fields church, and the Canada House. There were the streets with the famous double-decker busses and never ending traffic. There were fountains and statues. For a while Maxine slowly looked about her taking in the entire scene.

But then she gradually became aware of something almost equally amazing. There were many people below her and many of them were looking directly at her. She saw a man waving at her. She gave a slight wave back. Periodically as she looked about she saw others wave, and then more. Above the sounds of the traffic and splashing fountains she heard voices of some of the people below. Some called greetings to her while others were asking questions. She timidly acknowledged some of them with waves and smiles. She tried speaking to some of them but was not sure that they could hear her. But mostly she just looked about her perch above the heads of the people below so that she could remember as much as could later. She would never be in this place again.

Maxine remembered that people were also watching on the internet. She tried not to think about all the viewers that she did not know, but she did want to acknowledge those who had helped get her here. She took out the list of her family, friends, and benefactors. She had made a list so she wouldn’t forget anybody. In a steady low voice she read the names of all of those who had helped her and given support. Directing her speech toward the camera nearest her, she hoped that this camera was the one that was being fed to the live stream while she spoke. When she had finished, she paused for a moment, then gave a slight shrug and said, “And that’s all for now.”

And very soon it was. She heard the sound of the bright yellow JCB cherry picker coming to get her and drop off the next plinther. When she was brought to the plinth the JCB was a lift—it lifted her up to her hour of recognition. Now it was a cherry picker and Maxine understood why the tractor might be referred to by either name. At first it had lifted her to new heights, but now it was a cherry picker plucking her off of her place on the plinth to take her back to her life.

It was over. She had a train to catch and she caught it. She wondered if she had looked foolish while she was on the plinth. What would people say? Would they laugh at her or make fun? It was over now and now it did not matter. She went back to her flat in Liverpool and back to her regular life. Everyone that had seen her on the plinth told her that she had looked beautiful and had done a wonderful job and they all asked many questions and wanted to hear everything about her experience.

When she was with Beryl, her friend told her, “Oh Maxine, you were absolutely beautiful! You looked just like a princess with the crown and all.”

Maxine laughed, “That’s so funny. That’s what I called myself on that day. The Princess of the Plinth I was.”

“Well you were wonderful. It was one of the best things ever!”

Maxine, looking somewhat embarrassed, replied, “It wasn’t all that. But thank you”

As the weeks progressed, the future seemed to be taking shape for Maxine. The Liverpool Daily Post did a story about Maxine and on the front page there was a picture of her on the plinth. After being invited to a reception at a local gallery, she met others in the arts community and was able to gain an outlet for showing some of her works. She received an offer for a part-time position at the gallery. She also received a stipend to enroll in the arts college. Her dreams were finally becoming realities.

....to be continued tomorrow.....

The Princess of the Plinth (Part 2)

...continued from yesterday:


Then the day came for her to leave. She had told everyone she knew how her entire appearance would be streamed live on the internet. They could all watch while she was on the Plinth. While she waited at the station for her train, Beryl posed an unexpected puzzler to Maxine.


“So what are you going to do while you’re on the Plinth? Have you thought of something?”

“Do?” Maxine stared vacantly, silently. Curiously she hadn’t thought of this.

“You have to do something when you’re up there. Everyone will be looking at you, waiting for you to do something. It will be like you’re on the stage or something.”

Thus Maxine began her journey with a sense of ambiguity and dread. The organizers didn’t really say that she had to “do” anything in particular. She had candies to toss out to the crowd. But she didn’t dance, or sing, or juggle, or anything of the like. The people would all be looking at her waiting for her to do something. She tried to push these thoughts from the forefront of her mind and convince herself that she was merely going to be part of a work of art—a living statue of sorts. Nevertheless that thought of “doing” something nagged at her.

The train ride and her arrival in London were uneventful. She had been to London once as a child and had even visited Trafalgar, but arriving in the city now on her own was a total sensory assault. She wished that she could have the luxury to see all the sights and take in all of the experience of the city. However, her first concern was finding her cousin Jane’s flat. When Maxine arrived at the apartment, she rang and did not get an answer. She dialed her cousin’s mobile phone number.

“Jane, it’s Max. I’m here.”

“Sorry Cuz, I had to leave town for a few days,” Jane apologized. “I left a key under the doormat. Make yourself comfy and just help yourself to whatever you need. I’m so sorry I can’t be there. I was looking forward to seeing you. When you leave just lock up and slide the key under the door.”

Maxine felt very alone. The flat was nicely kept and quite comfortable. She had really looked forward to having the company tonight and perhaps even going out for a bit. However, Maxine was decisive that she would not go anywhere on her own. She settled in for an evening to herself. With a dinner of biscuits and jam that she had brought courtesy of one of her patrons, she turned on the television and that was that. When she retired she merely did so on the sofa in the reception room so as not to stir up a bed. Sleep came easily and well she slept.

The next morning before leaving, Maxine tidied herself first and then what little mess she had made in the flat. She found a nearby bakery café and breakfasted on two buttered muffins and tea before transporting to Trafalgar. She arrived a couple of hours before her scheduled midday appointment. Her early arrival allowed her to check out the scene. The square was bustling with people who were involved in all states of activity and inactivity. Her gaze soon followed the gazes of many of those in assemblage and there she saw the Fourth Plinth. A man stood atop the Plinth dressed in some sort of costume reciting poetry bellowing in loud round tones. Maxine watched the man and then watched the people who were watching the man. She strolled through the crowd and looked at all of the different types of people involved in many different activities and relationships. She wished that she could be one of them. A lady replaced the costumed man who had been reciting poetry. Then, more quickly than Maxine would have expected, her appointed time arrived.

She reported to the project welcome center and under the professional direction of the representatives of the organization she was meticulously guided through the process. She was led to a change room where she donned her special fine looking dress and carefully adjusted the tiara onto her head. Looking at herself in the mirror, she held her head up and pronounced with amusement, “There! I shall be the Queen of the Plinth.” She paused with uncertainty and bit her lip. “No perhaps that would be far too pretentious. After all we have a Queen. No, I shall be the Princess of the Plinth!” She was pleased with the alliteration of the title and decided that this would be far more artsy. Now she was ready for her hour of glory or gaucherie.

....to be continued tomorrow....

The Princess of the Plinth -- Part 1

          Due to the Christmas holiday schedule, over the next four days I will be offering a short story that I had been working on directly prior to starting my blog back in September.  This story appears as written in its first draft form.  I have not attempted to rewrite anything and thought I might get some critique and commentary from some of you readers.  So I'll be hoping to hear something from you, though I may not see your comments until after January 2, when I am back online.  Please leave a comment, good or bad, about this experiment of mine.

          I hope I have explained the setting and circumstance well enough in the beginning of the story that you don't get lost or confused.  I will provide explanation at the end of the story.

The Princess of the Plinth -- Part 1

When Maxine heard about the project of the Fourth Plinth, she immediately registered for the drawing on the internet. With only 2400 spaces available she doubted that her name would be drawn. She never seemed to be lucky and had never won anything in her life. So when the notice arrived that she would be participating in this epic work of art she was stunned.

She anxiously broke the news to her best friend, Beryl. “I’ve been chosen to be on the Plinth!”

Beryl looked at her quizzically, “Plinth? What’s a plinth?”

“A plinth--it’s a sort of pedestal like they mount a statue on.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re going to be on a plinth?”

“The Fourth Plinth Project by Antony Gormley,” Maxine explained. “On the empty plinth in Trafalgar Square. It starts in July and for one hundred days each hour twenty four hours a day someone different will be on the Plinth.”

“And why would anyone want to do such a thing?”

“It’s art!” Maxine cried. “It’s a participatory installation by Antony Gormley.”

“And who exactly is this Antony Gormley fellow?” Beryl persisted.

“Oh, Beryl, surely you know. He’s the one that did the “Another Place” sculptures at Crosby Beach.”

“Those blokes out at the beach?” Beryl cringed. “They give me the shivers.”

And this was typical of the response that Maxine got when she told others of her chosen status to appear on the Plinth. Then after the initial wonderment of it all, there came the mild, oft feigned, encouragement. Most everyone who knew Maxine knew that art was her great desire in life. Much of the time she could be found drawing, painting, or working at some crafty endeavor. Her greatest wish would have been to go to art school, study art, and become a working artist. However, by the fate of her life circumstance and lack of money she struggled as a shop clerk saving whatever spare money she could in hopes of one day achieving her dreams of art. It was always a struggle.

She told Beryl, “When I go to London I’m going be staying with my cousin Jane so that will save me money, but I will still need about a hundred pounds to take the train.”

“Do you have the hundred pounds to spare?” asked Beryl.

“I have some of it. The organizers suggest that I could solicit donations from my community and people I know to help out.”

“I can dole in two pounds,” Beryl said as she reached into her pocketbook. “Just don’t spend it on anything except for your train fare.”

And Maxine tucked away the two pounds and thought to herself, “Now if I can only find fifty other contributors”

By the time she had gone through her friends and family and gathered what she could of her own funds which she could spare, she was halfway to having enough to pay for her rail ticket to London. Then came the challenge of obtaining the other half of the needed monies. Approaching strangers, or at least those people whom she did not know very well, was a frightful proposition. Her first attempt was at a costume shop near the shop where she worked.

“A donation?” queried the owner, who looked around and then handed Maxine a tiara covered with rhinestones. “There you go.”

Maxine studied the tiara in her hands before quietly saying, “Actually I was thinking about a donation of money to help pay my expenses to get to London.”

“Money?” said the shopkeeper, “you want a donation of money? Well I’m afraid I can’t help too much but here’s ten pounds—I hope that helps some.”

Maxine was ecstatic. “Oh thank you! It will help so much” she cried as she handed back the tiara.

“You can keep the tiara. You can wear it when you are on the Plinth,” the shopkeeper said with a smile.

Getting donations from the shops was much easier than getting money from the people she knew and the shopkeepers didn’t make fun of her. And not only did they give her money, but they gave her merchandise as well. One shop gave her a fine looking dress to wear on the Plinth. Another gave her a couple of bags of sweets to throw to the onlookers at Trafalgar Square. She was given food to take with her on her trip. The entire mission was taking on an air of validity. The owner of the shop where she worked gave her permission to take two days off from work and gave Maxine her blessings. Maxine began looking forward to her hour on the Plinth.

Then the day came for her to leave. She had told everyone she knew how her entire appearance would be streamed live on the internet. They could all watch while she was on the Plinth. While she waited at the station for her train, Beryl posed an unexpected puzzler to Maxine.

“So what are you going to do while you’re on the Plinth? Have you thought of something?”

“Do?” Maxine stared vacantly, silently. Curiously she hadn’t thought of this.

...to be continued tomorrow....