Steve Michel's Journal of
Lateral Modernism********************** Vol. IX No.6 June 2008
THE ART ROOM:
Paintings by Monique Huber-Remponeau
Culture begins at home.
20 year retrospective: Oil paintings by
Monique Huber Remponeau:
Haitian born painter whose works stand to reason as great portrayals of Haitian subject matter. The paintings transcends cultural barriers and touch on the universal in her poignant use of vibrant colors and pose. Humanism can only stand dumbfounded as each painting captures an element of the human spirit that is timeless and speaks to us all in a spontaneous visual language. Poor are all the palaces, museums and galleries of the world who lack such paintings. I invite my readers to ponder these works, perhaps over a cup of finef Haitian tea, and admire the compositions and broad swaths of vibrant colors that frame the indomitability of the Haitian spirit. SM08.
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FICTION DEPT.:
Soil Mechanics: PART 8
by Steve Michel
Timo heard a rustle behind him in the trees among the low-lying shrubbery. He turned to look thinking an anteater was foraging in his shrubs. A shape resolved itself in the dim light. Har stood before him. He had something in his hand-a stick. Startled, Timo froze momentarily "What are you doing here?" he blurted. He could see mounds of plants upturned in disarray about the grounds.
"Well if it isn't time you showed up." Har moved in purposefully with the slow step of a cat ready to pounce.
Timo was unafraid of Har but apprehensive not knowing where his brothers were. A Cargias alone was more dangerous on that account. A Lector's lecture came unbidden in his mind: 'More than what you know always know what you don't.' Timo braced himself.
"Timo keep still." Har leapt towards him, lashing out with the stick. Timo sidestepped easily smacking his elbow into Har's face. Har stepped back with a nosebleed, his face contorted with a strange expression. He was laughing, "Now you've done it." He threw the stick into the bushes.
Mir stepped from the shadows with the stick in his hand "But it's quite simple you see Har, we found him pounding into you," both Cargias bent down, eyes never leaving Timo, and untied and removed their shoes and placed side by side in careful alignment.
Ty's voice mocked behind Timo, "Out for a stroll we found you beating on Har. We, of course, had to defend." They slowly stepped towards Timo in a seven-finger stance.
"So it has come to that." Timo said with something akin to exasperation and disgust. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum. The Cargias arrayed themselves looking at him strangely. They expected fear but saw only his composure. Timo was focused briefly on doing something he had tried many a time. 'Phyto if only you were here. They would be mice in a cat's paw' his mind voiced. Timo figured his skill was equal or excelled each but against all three, his only chance was to buy some time and find cover. He had circled slowly to the side increasing the distance between them while nearing a stand of shrubbery.
Without telegraphing a single twitch, they pounced him from all sides. Ty threw a flying kick at his head. Timo ducked lashing with a fist that caught Mir closing in. He wove in and out trying to find the narrow path of safe motion. Then he executed an armada spin at the pouncing Har. Mir knee kick caught him in the ribs. Before Timo could recover his balance, Har's fist landed square on his jaw. His head rang with the blow. He staggered back his eyelids heavy. His vision blurring he kicked out to gain a few heartbeats of time. He blocked another blow, spinning a tight weave of motion: An A-oo cartwheel melded into an armada round kick. Hits and misses. Another punch landed. He felt himself getting weak. The gaps in his defensive dance grew wider. Another glancing blow scraped his head. Har hovered near winding back to knock him out.
A huge shape blurred from nowhere pulling Har from Timo "Hold on little man" Came Phyto's voice. He yanked Har by the belt and knocked him into a thorny raketa thicket. "Thought I smelled Cargias."
Ty in disarray tried to jump kick Phyto with a flying barroca. He was dull as a rock but leapt with an agility that bellied his size. Phyto ducked and kneed him midsection folding him head down.
Meanwhile Timo was toe to toe with Har angered cursing beyond reason. He swung at Timo like some mad windmill in a gale. Timo sidestepped his blows easily then pulled down him with a foot sweep sending him knee deep into a poison ivy fence.
"Think we'll make it back for curfew?" asked the grinning Phyto with Mir tucked under his arm. What Phyto lacked in grace for capoeira, he made up with inflexible brawn. The big Ty was knocked flat out on his back.
The next day of inspection at Matins the Cargias were quite itchy and Timo red eyed. No mention was made of the incident. But the Lector made a particular point of reminding his charges that nighttime capers past curfew was not to be tolerated.
Also no mention passed between Phyto and Timo to know if Phyto had heard Timo's summons that night. Silence accompanies mystery in matters lived but not understood. These things were never discussed at Wangari only felt. 'Experience is the true teacher of minds' was all Timo ever heard the Lectors say on that subject. ...to be continued next month
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