The Fallyrag Museum of Art is a gargantuan pyramid located in the centre of a vast and arid wasteland. For those who take the long trek across the bleak space between reality and virtuality, it is the mirage that oscillates and tickles your senses; that you experience but that isn’t there. It is an unreality. Inside this vast and imposing illusion lies the art object.

There once lived an intrepid adventurer called Fulbut Spank. Fulbut had sailed the seven seas. He’d climbed the highest mountains. He’d even been lost and stumbled upon the Arse-End Of Nowhere. With great pomp Fulbut began boasting that he’d conquered the world. ‘There is nothing left for Fulbut Spank!’ He said speaking proudly in the third.

Then one day, after Fulbut had been boasting in an inn in the town of Sanity, he was told the tale of the art object, housed in the Fallyrag Museum of Art, by an old, blind man called Bobkis. ‘Fulbut Spank! You are indeed worthy of the title adventurer but I ask you this… have you trekked to the Fallyrag Museum of Art? Have you found the art object? I think not and as such your potential isn’t worth the boast. I say this to you… no person can gaze upon the art object and return safely to Sanity.’

In a rage Fulbut replied: ‘This is nothing but myth! For I have been to the wastelands many times and have seen nothing my senses could tell me was there. But to prove you wrong old man I will travel once more, for I tire of inns and need to seek new cheer!’ And later that night, once the inn had closed, he left for adventure and all the town’s people waved him farewell; for they believed the boaster would be lost.

Image by Ann Norfield

Fulbut travelled far; seconds, decades, minutes or millennia; he no longer knew. He found nothing though; nothing. Until that is, when from out of nowhere the horizon appeared in the distance. He squinted his eyes and his gaze fell far and on top of the horizon, still rising out of nowhere, a gargantuan pyramid appeared. ‘I’ve found it!’ He thought. ‘The world is truly taken as it lies at the feet of Fulbut Spank the adventurer!’

As if by magic he found himself whisked across the wastelands and he landed facing a tiny door, only half his size, at the base of one face of the pyramid. Without hesitation the adventurer pushed the oak door inwards and crawled into the centre of the Fallyrag Museum of Art. As his head entered first, Fulbut felt it disconnect from the rest of his body and he felt himself as floating thought, bathed in a white splendour.

‘The art object’ he thought ‘the art object’ he thought ‘the art object’ he thought and the walls of unreality broke open; letting his thought take shape. He saw what he thought was a painting of Sanity but it squirmed and refused to stay still. Then there was girl crafting with glass who span round on a stool till she popped out of view. The pan of Fulbut’s view drew back in a hurry and revealed a line of girls crafting, some painting, some sleeping. Then splashes of colour flip-flopped round creamy whites finally forming a form and that form was Fulbut Spank.

No one was as surprised as old man Bobkis when Fulbut Spank came storming back into Sanity. ‘I suppose you’re back to gloat’ Bobkis said to Spank ‘I can see by the wild look in your eyes that you’ve been adventuring to the Fallyrag Museum of Art.’

The storm with which Fulbut had arrived subsided and he calmly replied. ‘I have indeed gazed on the art object but in seeing all that the world has to offer I know I have nothing to boast.’ In amazement Bobkis stepped back. ‘If you retreat from me, old man, you will draw close. You said I hadn’t yet fulfilled my potential and in that you are still right. For my sights were short and now they are not. There should no longer be blind or blinkered potential.’ And for the rest of his days Fulbut Spank only boasted that he boasted no more.