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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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Ancient Origins – Chauvet Lions Watching

© 2004 Christopher Agostino “Chauvet Lions Watching”

“Before we ever painted on a cave wall we painted on ourselves.”

It’s a line I’ve used ever since the book The Painted Body  by Michel Thévoz (1984) introduced me to the idea that painting ourselves was the first human art. He states that it is the fundamental human art: “…there is no body but the painted body, and no painting but body painting.”

In my desire to reach back to that initial impulse to paint ourselves, I collect images of cave wall paintings and other ancient art. Cave paintings bring animals to life in naturalistic and stylized imagery that use the outcroppings and shapes of the rock walls, in much the same way body artists use the contours of the human form. Much of this prehistoric art depicts human/animal transformations associated with what scholars think may be the shamanist beliefs of early human cultures.

In The Mind in the Cave (2002), David Lewis-Williams  presents a timeline of the development of ancient art and culture. Whereas cave paintings go back 30,000+ years and the earliest “object of art” yet discovered is from 77,000 years ago, there is evidence of pigment processing from much earlier, possibly as far back as 250,000 years ago. That reaches back to the very beginnings of human culture on the plains of Africa, before the modern human race began to spread into the rest of the world. Pigments like those ochre earths are still used as traditional body paints.

When the Paleolithic paintings in the Chauvet Cave were discovered in 1994 they revolutionized our perception of prehistoric art. Before then, cave paintings were dated based on a study of style: the simpler the art the earlier it must be from. Modern scientific dating techniques show that some of the Chauvet  paintings are from 32,000 years ago, the earliest pictorial art we’ve ever discovered. Yet they are rendered with subtle shading, employ complex pigment processing, and varied illustrative techniques including using multiple images to depict movement (in almost a cubist fashion). Some have such a developed naturalistic style that they look like they could walk off the cave wall today.

I did this bodypainting called “Chauvet Lions Watching” in 2004, with images from European cave paintings that are 10,000 to 32,000 years old. I could call it my first fine art bodypainting — though I had painted full bodies before this, those were usually on assignments for clients, experiments with technique or imitations of other bodyart I’d seen. I think this was the first time I ever approached a body as a canvas to express and explore a strong concept I was trying to understand, with the specific goal of creating a single photograph that might be seen as a work of art.

The Chauvet Lions are watching from the lower right hand corner and, remarkably, they are the oldest image here.

Check out the related post:  Werner Herzog – he likes the lions, too.      http://wp.me/p1sRkg-6O   4/22/11

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Werner Herzog – Cave of Forgotten Dreams — he likes the lions, too. –

Cave of Forgotten Dreams — documentary film by Werner Herzog

30,000 year old cave painting from the Chauvet Cave

detail of bodypainting titled "Chauvet Lions Watching"

In an interview on Fresh Air yesterday, Terry Gross asked Werner Herzog which one painting he had the strongest reaction to as he filmed inside the Chauvet Cave. After saying that it was the overall effect of the cave that moved him the most, he singled out the painting of the lions. Paraphrasing his description, it is of five lions stalking something, intently looking at something but we don’t know what they are looking at — and depicted with such a complete naturalism that we could think we are looking at living lions today. Yet, it is among the single oldest paintings ever made. The earliest pictorial images in all of human art. As moving and complex as any art ever created since. I understand how he feels about the lions.

I’m trying to think of another time when I heard of a project and had such an immediate reaction to just how perfect it is. Werner Herzog, given the chance to bring to us this story of what may be the origin of art, the origin of our humanity. He’s one of the most fascinating artists in the world, and here he is making a movie about this cave that has always fascinated me, and been a continual inspiration for my work since it was first discovered in the 90s and I read about it in my Natural History Magazine.

Go to the article from NPR on the film, and listen to the Fresh Air interview there — in addition to talking about the film, Herzog talks about a lifetime of making films that “stare into the abyss” of humanity ( “Grizzly Man” and “Encounters at the End of the World” have both been on TV a bunch lately): http://www.npr.org/2011/04/20/135516812/herzog-enters-the-cave-of-forgotten-dreams

Clip of the movie:

http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi2827853081/

Werner Hertzog speaks of having always been drawn to prehistoric art, fascinated about the idea of paintings being made so long ago and yet we still can feel the connection between the people that made them and ourselves. I share that feeling. I began to explore our earliest art as I sought to find the origins of bodyart. And the connection between painting ourselves and painting cave walls is undeniable, with, for example, in Chauvet Cave — as in so many others —  painted hands being used as stamps to create designs on the cave walls. From the start, though, what caught me most was the constant examples of how these ancient artists expertly used the shape of the cave walls in their paintings, in a way that seems to me the very essence of bodypainting. Speaking only as an artist here, the transference of images on the body to images on the sculptured surface of a cave wall seems a very direct step.

The need to show how the paintings work on the form of the walls explains why Herzog filmed this in 3D: “When I saw photos, it looked almost like flat walls — maybe slightly undulating or so. Thank God, I went in there without any camera a month before shooting. What you see in there is limestone, and you have these wildly undulating walls — you have bulges and niches and pendants of rock, and there’s a real incredible drama of information. The artists utilized it for their paintings. … So it was clear it was imperative to do this in 3-D, in particular, because we were the only ones ever allowed to film.”

There are a lot of videos about Werner and his work, including these two interview segments about this film, particularly fun because he is speaking so off the cuff: 

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