It is with a solemn tone that we regret to inform our readership that during a recent trip Rudyard was found dead and will no longer be contributing to this column.

We are now printing the haunting memoir of a man who’s blind dedication proved to be his final downfall, in a piece we are naming.

Sitting behind this large block of cement I can hear gunshots ringing overhead, I am bleeding a lot and the smell is mixing with my expensive cologne, forming an overwhelming musk, quite unpleasant and foul. Luckily however my blue blood is proving a sturdy ink as I pen this final note on some scraps of paper I happened to catch flying by. How I ended up in such a predicament is beyond me. Packing a bag and flying off to an exhibition named “Invaze fest” I momentarily paused to give thought yet had no idea a military invasion what I would ultimately meet. What vile methods of trickery have been employed by the gods that would lead its’ people to reenact atrocities of war in such a realistic and brutal manner?

Upon landing I sallied forth, inquiring at the local tourist bureau as to the whereabouts of the exhibition space. Finding the first lady most bearded, even, unfriendly and want to be unhelpful, I journeyed off through the rubble in pursuit of my goal. Rounding a corner I was suddenly confronted with the show – a performance piece, highlighting, through reenactment worldwide political struggles between militarized government and guerrilla armies. Immersing my self in the spectacle I began documenting the event. Snapping pictures and scribbling notes, as is my want I was then struck by a sharp pain in my abdomen, and struck more so by admiration for the artist who insisted real bullets should be used in her show. Reeling back in a mixture of reverence and hemorrhagic shock I lay ensconced in the shadow this cement brick and began writing these last fading words. So as your eye flits across this sentence, past that comma, know that I, like many more before me, died doing what I love, that is, reporting contemporary art. I regret nothing and wish to send my congratulations to the curators of this splendid event. In closing I wish to impart some words to my only son Kevin. To you I pass the flame of knowledge and class. Go out, meet people and explore this world as best you can. The future is in your hands.

Eternally,
Rudyard

After a temporary stay in the jail following my last attempt to cover a local event, I had entertained the thought of abandoning any critical exploits. It is however the dedication to a cause that one strives for as the prime motive in any professional endeavor and so thus, I dusted off my cravat, perched my floppy hat, high on my coffered quiff and set about rejoining the art world.

This week I would be covering the upcoming show by acclaimed artist Aidan Hughes, to be held at The Napa Gallery. Finding my self a little disorientated after so long locked up with the lower castes of our society, I felt my natural compass was somewhat askew. Oh, what conspiracy exists between cartographers and the mental heath experts when one is forced to embark on such a schizophrenic excursion as exists in the lesser district? Walking up endless labyrinthine alleys and round corners of reflex angle I was stuck by the greatest surprise to find myself sauntering through the automatic doors of the “Happy land” travel agency.

Once inside I found several pamphlets outlining the stylistic changes Aidan has traversed though out his career. From his Egyptian landscapes he focus’ on capturing known icons in a new and interesting light through their perception as travel destinations, To his groundbreaking series on south east Asia, featuring an in depth profile of this region’s commercial perception and every day reality.

Sitting down with the curator I was able to peer into the mind capable of putting together a show of such magnitude, and found that she had embraced a trait that so many in their position do; total emersion. So much was her distinct belief that she was in fact the employee of an actual travel agency that she even preformed a typical booking and purchase procedure, providing me with charmingly authentic looking boarding passes and itinerary.

So here I sit on a pebbly beech in Croatia, raining my typical thunderous wisdom in praise of the whole experience offered by Aidan Hughes and his soon to be hit new exhibition “Happy land”.

Editors note: Rudyard Sneem has been missing since faxing this document last month. Local police have been alerted and we appreciate any information on his whereabouts to be forwarded to the magazine offices. Aidan Hughes’ actual work can bee seen at the new Napa Gallery, Prokopská 8, Malá Strana as well as on his website www.bruteprop.com.

Following directions is not the strongest card in my deck; a mind so naturally gifted in special relations can easily be confused by the rudimentary scrawling of simple minded cartographers. Nevertheless I found myself more or less on the right track when I arrived at the exhibition, interestingly named Zoo World. Once inside this zeitgeist of the avant-guard I was greeted by what must have been the galleries’ curator; splendidly in character as a pet shop owner. It seems the artist has leaned away from her former work of paints and brushes and such and turned her hand to animatronics, with very realistic results.

Incredible lifelike showings
Scattered around the gallery were cages and tanks containing these new works, moving and sounding so realistic one could be forgiven for thinking this was an actual pet shop. A few flaws are expected in an artist’s first few showings and so it was the case here. Removing my pince nez to thoughtfully inspect the puppy, I removed its’ outer casing and was surprised to find the inside too, had been lovingly represented as lifelike as possible. Unfortunately some of the burgundy colored hydraulic fluid stained the front of my cravat and I was forced to clean it on the shirt front of a passing waiter. None of the usual pleasantries were provided like the complementary wine and crackers, nor did I catch sight of the artist herself. But in a true subversion of the dominant paradigm she had created a “full immersion” experience; a benchmark for others to follow.

Editors note: Rudyard Sneem actually missed the real exhibition by Léna Virgler and instead went to a pet store by mistake. Charges are pending over the mutilation of the puppy and the assault on a local resident. We all wish him the best in his future endeavors.