Category Archives: Storytelling

Is Life Fair? – a traditional tale re-told

by Christopher Agostino

 

Once upon a time there was a man who was a farmer. He had worked a long, hard day in the fields and he was walking home when he heard a voice: “Ssssaaaave meeee.”

He looked around and didn’t see anyone, so he started walking when he heard the voice again: “Ssssssaaaaave meee, pleeeaaaassse!” He realized the sound was coming from the ground, so he looked down, and there, trapped under a large rock, was a long, dangerous looking snake.  The snake had been trapped for so long that it looked weak from hunger, ready to die.

The farmer did not like snakes, most farmers don’t, but he hated to see an animal suffering like that, so he moved the rock and saved the snake’s life. Right away the snake jumped up and said, “Thank you for ssssaving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” said the man.

“Now I’m going to eat you,” said the snake, and he grabbed the farmer by the neck.

“Wait a minute,” said the farmer, “I just saved your life. Is it fair that you should eat me?”

“Life is not fair,” said the snake, “and I’m hungry.”

So they ended up with the snake still wrapped around the farmer’s neck. This led to a discussion, the farmer asking, “if life is not fair then what is the point of living?” to which the snake replied, “if you’ve lived long enough you’d know, life is not fair.” But the snake said he would give the farmer a chance, since the farmer had saved his life. They would ask three animals that question, “Is life fair?”, and if any of them said it was, the snake would let the farmer go.

So the farmer, with the snake wrapped around his neck, set off across the fields to find three animals. And the first animal they came to was a cow. The farmer looked at the cow and asked, “Is life fair?”

“Wwwwwwell,” said the cow, “ you always let me eat your grass, and it’s very goooood. But don’t I have to give you mmmmmilk every day? And when I’m old and tired and can’t give mmmmmilk every day, will you still feed me? Noooooo, it’s off to the hamburger factory with me. Life is not fair,” said the cow.

“Oh no,” said the farmer.

“Heh, heh, heh,” said the snake.

So the farmer with the snake wrapped around his neck, and with the cow following along behind, set off to find the second animal. And they walked across the fields until they came to a horse. The farmer looked at the horse and asked, “Is life fair?”

“Weeeeeell,” said the horse, “you always let me eat your oats and sleep in your barn, and that’s very goooooood. But don’t I have to pull your plow? Don’t I have to carry you on my back? Hhrruuummmphh. And when I’m old and tired and can’t carry you anymore, will you still feed me? Nnnnnnnnooo, it’s off to the glue factory with me. Life is not faaaaair,” said the horse.

“Oh no,” said the farmer.

“Heh, heh, heh,” said the snake, “one more to go.”

So the farmer with the snake wrapped around his neck, with the cow and the horse following along behind, set off to find the third animal, the final animal. And they walked across the field until they came to a bunny rabbit. The farmer bent down and looked at the bunny rabbit. He put his hands together and cleared his throat. Then he asked, “Is life fair?”

“Hmmm,” said the rabbit, “what an interesting question. Why do you ask?”

The farmer explained that he had saved the snake’s life, and the snake explained that he was going to eat the farmer.

“Oooh,” said the rabbit to the man, “you saved his life? That’s very nice of you,” and the rabbit said to the snake, “And you’re going to eat him? I don’t know about that. Now as to your question: ‘Is life fair?’ Well, I’m just a bunny, I don’t know why you’d ask me. But I did ask my mother this same question once when I was little, and you know what she said? You know what she said? She said, ‘Whether life’s fair, or whether it’s not, the least we can do is dance!’”

“Dance?” asked the farmer.

“Dansssssse?” asked the snake.

“Dance!” said the rabbit. And the rabbit began to dance:  Hip hip hip, hop hop hop, hip hip hip hip hip, hop hop hop!

This was such a silly sight that it got the horse dancing: Hruum hruum hruum; hruum hruum hruum; raaaaahhhuuum raaaaahhhuuum, hruum hruum hruum!

Which  got the cow dancing: Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum; ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum; ba-da-da-dum, ba-da-da-dum; ba-dum, ba-dum ba-dum!

Which got the farmer dancing: boop-be-doop-be; boop-be-doop-ba; boop-be-doop-be; boop-be-doop-ba!

Which got the snake dancing: Cha cha cha, ssssssssss! Cha cha cha, sssssssssss! Cha, cha, cha,sssssssssssss!

And while the snake was dancing, the rabbit took the farmer by the hand and they snuck off, back to the safety of the farm house.

Now I don’t know about you, but I agree with that rabbit: Whether life’s fair, or whether it’s not, the least we can do is dance!

Is Life Fair?  – a traditional folktale re-told

©2004 Christopher Agostino

This has been a favorite tale of mine to perform over the years, and I do it the “old-fashioned way” without any facepainting. For a number of years it was the story I’d end my shows with, and I’ve just started telling this tale again as part of a special thematic version of my Transformations — Storytelling show for libraries this summer. The library Summer Reading Club theme is “One World — Many Stories”, so I’ve put together a collection of tales that allow me to talk to these family audiences about the reason why we tell stories. 

When I first found it, I wasn’t looking for it. I was sitting in the reference section of  my local library looking through regional folktale collections to find a story about animals for a show I was writing. In every book I looked through there seemed to be a tale of a farmer who saves a snake that then wants to eat him. Often the farmer said that it wasn’t fair to be eaten by someone he had saved, to which the snake replied that life isn’t fair. In all the stories except one, the farmer turned the tables on the snake by tricking him back under the rock (or into a hat or a sack) and then justified his trickery by agreeing  that life isn’t fair and it’s every man for himself. A happy ending for the farmer perhaps, but not for the snake.

Only one version I found left everybody dancing. As best as I can recall, this version came from a collection of tales from Mexico, which has a tradition of tricky rabbits, but I am not sure. It wasn’t a tale I wanted to use for the show I was then writing, so I took no notes and have been unable to find it again. I began telling it a few years later just from what I remembered, which is my favorite way to begin to tell a tale. For then the story grows by itself, with the help of each audience that hears it.

I open the story by asking the audience that question, “Is life fair?”, and most often get a chorus of young voices answering, ”No!” That may be why I love to tell this tale to audiences today. That may be why stories like this survive for so long. We need our stories to help us understand the world in more ways than the obvious ones, because we know there will be days when the world doesn’t seem fair and the only thing we can do is keep dancing. 

This story is yours now. Tell it to someone else.

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4 Years of Faces at the World Science Festival

by Christopher Agostino

The World Science Festival has been a great adventure for me as a facepainter over these past four years. Working with new and unusual themes is a wonderful way to expand design concepts — plus I am a bit of a science geek and fully appreciate this opportunity to share my enthusiasm with kids and families.

I chose to go from being a lone facepainter to the director of a company of artists because I wanted to be able to have an artistic impact on large events, with dynamic face designs in sufficient number to visually alter the event. This is facepainting as a visual performance art.

Because our Transformation Facepainting concept is a constantly creative exploration of design principles rather than the repetition of specific designs, our company can create new and unique designs to suit the theme of each specific event, and thereby bring that theme to life in a fully participatory way on each guest we paint.

Our work in arts-in-education and family theater also gives us the tools to support a promotional or educational concept with contextual interactions with the people we paint as we transform them with thematic designs.

In the case of the World Science Festival, I’ve had as much fun talking with people about these things we are turning them in to as in coming up with these unique designs — telling stories about moments of science such as the 1919 solar eclipse that generated worldwide headlines proclaiming that “Einstein Was Right!”. Plus, we’ve occasionally had the privilege of painting scientists in designs that fit their field of science, as in the time that a molecular biologist doing research on the brain gave me insight into how to depict neurons firing.

I’ve also had the opportunity to present my performance/lecture on the cultural significance of masks and painted faces for some wonderful audiences in their Discovery Theater.

For more information on the lecture: https://thestorybehindthefaces.com/lecture/

Some things I might never think to paint turn out to be the inspiration for wonderful faces.  http://worldsciencefestival.com/ http://worldsciencefestival.com/blog/face_painting

     

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Modern Primitive: Why Look Back? – Part 1: To see their eyes…

Inspired by the photographs of Hans Silvester of the new styles of face art from the peoples of the Omo River area of Africa

by Christopher Agostino

While doing research yesterday for a new bodypainting project I read a passage that struck a chord, giving me a sharper insight into a theme that runs through my work. “Primitivism” in 20th Century Art is a “comprehensive scholarly treatment” published in 1984 to accompany an exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art which broke new ground by exhibiting Modern Art masterpieces side-by-side with the tribal art from Africa and Oceania that was a significant source of inspiration for those early modern artists, presenting the art objects of both the “primitive” and the “modern” on equal footing. At the culmination of his opening essay in the book, exhibit director William Rubin makes this statement of his most profound, or personal, goal for the exhibit:

“In the realm of my hopes, however, there is something less explicit, more difficult to verbalize. It is that the particular confrontation involved in our exhibition [between tribal objects and modern masterpieces] will not only help us better to understand our art, but in a very unique way, our humanity — if that is not saying the same thing. The vestiges of a discredited evolutionary myth still live in the recesses of our psyches. The vanguard modernists told us decades ago that the tribal peoples produced an art that often distilled great complexity into seemingly simple solutions. We should not therefore be surprised that anthropology has revealed a comparable complexity in their cultures. I hope our effort will demonstrate that at least insofar as it pertains to works of the human spirit, the evolutionary prejudice is clearly absurd.”

My visual and performing arts have become increasingly connected to cultures distant in time, space and tradition. This research into other cultures is fascinating to me, rich in ideas and images for the artist sponge in me to absorb, but that isn’t what drives this process.

When I tell an audience a 2,000 year old tale from China of a heroic young girl as I did this afternoon, modern white guy that I am I still feel a resonance of the common humanity at the heart of the story. I feel it… and will judge my performance in large part on my perception of how well I have been able to let my audience feel it. I’ve come to see how it is the qualities in a story that touch upon the universal question of what it means to be human that make some stories survive.

The juxtaposition of the very tribal Papua New Guinea design with the New York street scene and a bag of potato chips makes this a favorite foto of mine.

When I paint a New Yorker’s face in a design from some exotic culture, that also makes a connection to our common humanity. As I have grown more aware of this, with kids I’ll talk about a more concrete, though metaphoric, connection to their unusual new face — for example, that the Kabuki Samurai design they’re wearing is like becoming a superhero; or that the wildly colorful face from Papua New Guinea is like being painted for a birthday party, it just happens to be a party on the other side of the world. This is an understanding of the effect of my work that has grown gradually, and not a political or “new age” sensibility that led me to my explorations of the primitive. I started “looking backward” to the tribal and the ancient to become a better facepainter, as a way to understand the possibilities for painting a face that had already been discovered by cultures that have done it for generations.

Now, it seems that the lesson of a couple hundred thousand painted faces over 30 years is unavoidable, for whatever culturally alien or bizarre design I paint on someone, once I am finished I always see a pair of human eyes looking back at me from within the mask. This is my visceral understanding of the common humanity we share.

Writing as he was about famous artists and art objects with a power to change perception far beyond anything I could approach, William Rubin’s statement is a stronger, more militant sentiment about the necessity and potential of this joining of the primitive and the modern to open our world view, but I can’t be the first facepainter to wonder what effect it would have on cultural/racial prejudices if we all wore painted faces, and all we could see was each other’s eyes?

Picasso's revolutionary sculpture, Guitar 1912, and a Grebo mask (Ivory Coast, Africa) that he owned. Picasso stated that in creating this sculpture he studied the mask for its use of projections for eyes, nose and mouth from a flat plane, for how those projections implied another invisible plane ( a device he used for creating the sound hole of the guitar via a cylinder) and especially the quality in such tribal art that it is not illustrating a face but "re-presenting" it — a concept that concurs with a pivotal change between the art of the 19th century and the new art of the early modernists, i.e. their use of symbols and imagery to represent subject matter and thereby add greater conceptual depth.

http://www.agostinoarts.com

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