10/5/2004: 30,000 bananas as art
 

http://cellar.org/2004/bananaartist.jpg

This has been Farked but it's such a perfect IotD material, massive food as art.. and one we've covered several times before. In this case it really does seem to be quite a stretch, that this pile of 30,000 bananas in the middle of Trafalgar Square makes an artistic statement of some sort. But perhaps there is a nuance that I can't see in it.

full story

the art happens when the local giant slips on it and breaks his neck....duh.

The art happens as the bananas slowly rot, eventually becoming so rank that nobody wants to visit Trafalgar Square. HAH! Victory over the crass American tourist.

Would they arrest you if you ate one? I mean, they are just dumped there. I imagine Londoners grabbing a bunch as they walk by, and taking them home.

stupid monkeys. if you can't understand the art, then you don't deserve to be told.

Londoners would immediately realize it was art and not take a bunch. Only stupid, crass Americans would do something like that.

To quote John Cage, "I have nothing to say, and I am saying it."

You are forgetting the goldfish in the blender.

I think the real art happens when some smartass decides to go out there in the middle of the night and put condoms on each banana. Then they can claim it's a statement against the sex ed practices of... something, something.

Wouldn't that be 30,000 - 1 = 29,999
He messed up the beautiful art work--now it's just a bunch of bannanas on the ground

30,000 POUNDS OF BANANAS
Harry Chapin


It was just after dark when the truck started down
the hill that leads into Scranton Pennsylvania.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds (hit it Big John) of bananas.

He was a young driver,
just out on his second job.
And he was carrying the next day's pasty fruits
for everyone in that coal-scarred city
where children play without despair
in backyard slag-piles and folks manage to eat each day
about thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, just about thirty thousand pounds (scream it again, John) .

He passed a sign that he should have seen,
saying "shift to low gear, a fifty dollar fine my friend."
He was thinking perhaps about the warm-breathed woman
who was waiting at the journey's end.
He started down the two mile drop,
the curving road that wound from the top of the hill.
He was pushing on through the shortening miles that ran down to the depot.
Just a few more miles to go,
then he'd go home and have her ease his long, cramped day away.
and the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

He was picking speed as the city spread its twinkling lights below him.
But he paid no heed as the shivering thoughts of the nights
delights went through him.
His foot nudged the brakes to slow him down.
But the pedal floored easy without a sound.
He said "Christ!"
It was funny how he had named the only man who could save him now.
He was trapped inside a dead-end hellslide,
riding on his fear-hunched back
was every one of those yellow green
I'm telling you thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

He barely made the sweeping curve that led into the steepest grade.
And he missed the thankful passing bus at ninety miles an hour.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he sideswiped nineteen neat parked cars,
clipped off thirteen telephone poles,
hit two houses, bruised eight trees,
and Blue-Crossed seven people.
it was then he lost his head,
not to mention an arm or two before he stopped.
And he slid for four hundred yards
along the hill that leads into Scranton, Pennsylvania.
All those thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

You know the man who told me about it on the bus,
as it went up the hill out of Scranton, Pennsylvania,
he shrugged his shoulders, he shook his head,
and he said (and this is exactly what he said)
"Boy that sure must've been something.
Just imagine thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of mashed bananas.
Of bananas. Just bananas. Thirty thousand pounds.
of Bananas. not no driver now. Just bananas!"

Magnificent tribute to questionable art. :thumbsup:

After dark, colored spotlights on the ground around the bananas, playing lazily over clouds of swirling,......fruit flies. :corn:

That's the point. In the article, it says that after 3pm, people can come by and take a banana. The art is how it slowly diminishes.
My question is-
It says that leftover bananas will be donated to homeless shelters, etc.
But won't they be rotten by then?

Banana Bread! --- Or, the more useful BananaPhone!

I got a banana boat.....banana soup, banana cocktails, banana splits, banana biscuits, banana bread, banana milk, banana crackers, banana on a stick, banana gumbo, fried banana, stewed banana, baked banana with banana sauce and banana ice cream......ya wanna be the captain of my banana boat? :)