Bababa International Airport Minutes 17/2/2011

In Attendance: Uncle Eric (UC), Flask (F), Jug (J), Pitcher (P), Withheld (W), Jean Arp (JA). Absent: Amphora (A), Charlie Sofo (CS), Fleischmann & Pons (F&P).

New Arrivals: Work bench and storage area, kitchen unit, Imperial Panda Festival Poster, a little more dirt, dust pan, 24 Clocks.

Recent Departures: Light-bulb.

P enters. Cleaning occurs, French tape is played. W enters, greetings and introductions occur. Discussion takes place. J enters. Introductions occur. Discussion continues. All present attendees discuss, among other things, how a city is defined interpreted, and consider the distinctions between what makes a city 'good' or 'bad'.* F enters. Introductions occur. Discussion follows. W exits.

*If you would like to attend this meeting posthumously and contribute to the evolution of this topic, please write in and let us know your thoughts, opinions, complaints. Can a city a) be defined as good or bad, and b) if it can, what counts as an attribute and what counts as a detraction?

Architectural report: Bababa International Airport appears to be undergoing a growth spurt of confused proportions. While some items and areas appear to have matured, others have shrunk, leaving the overall dimensions of the space misshapen and bent. The walls are now too short for the enlarged ceiling height, making them appear stretched and ready-to-snap. The floor, having been placed under squirrelly stress from the walls has begun to buckle, making it wobbly underfoot. Strangely, when occupying the space these distorted incertitudes do not show up, so all present attendees carry on regardless.*

* Please refer to previous post titled: 'Complex Hub No. 1'.

JA, too far away to be audible, recites a poem:

Flyweight Glory

The era in which every scrap of magma separating from the painter

or the sculptor is gathered up

carefully reproduced and accompanied by a dithyrambic text

is nearing its end.

The artist of this era sacrifices divine solitude

for a flyweight glory.

He keeps a suite of courtiers, jugglers, publicity agents around him,

and they sing his praises,

leap for joy before his paintings or sculptures,

and spread about his flashes of wit, his bon mots.

The vigorously signed decompositions,

the soiled tablecloths stretched on frames,

the snot sculptures of this era of flyweight glory

seem to come from another star

than the windows and rosettes of the cathedral of Chartres.

Discussion turns to fruit salad, with no specific agendas being discussed systematically. With the exception of UC, all present attendees vacate the Airport. F & J return. Typing heard late into the night.