Ornamenting

Plop Art

During Great Britain’s Georgian Era, estate landscapes strewn with boulders, clumps of uprooted trees, and moldy, crumbling cottages were not dismissed as wastelands devoid of any compositional logic. In their storm-ravaged and dark recesses they gave testament to a sense of the Romantic Sublime, an introspective form of melancholy — a certain Byronic allure.

These unfrequented haunts, grottoes, and sun-deprived glades offered not only darkness, but also niches for a sagacious sense of solitude. Many estate owners, then, built hermitages, only to discover themselves to be neither particularly contemplative nor sagacious.

The obvious solution was to hire an able eremite and plop him down in said venue. Evidently, the tradition has not, as believed, died out. As evidenced by this relatively recent Craig’s list offering:

Gentle Lady Seeks Ornamental Hermit

Me, a gentlewoman:

Of good birth and in the bloom of youth;

Possessed of vast estates and holdings, including a natural cave under a waterfall in the midst of my Edenic gardens, ideal for hermit life;

Of refined sensibilities and a melancholy disposition.

You, an ornamental hermit:

Not younger than 30, not yet older than 50;

Possessing a great, grizzled beard;

True lover of solitude.

The successful candidate shall be provided with books, water, spectacles, a cape, an hourglass, a skull, and food from the house.

Terms of the Agreement include seven years of service, during which you shall not:

Cut your hair or beard;

Trim your nails;

Bathe;

Leave the premises of the hermitage;

Accept money from my gentle guests.

Duties shall include:

Reminding all passersby of our shared mortality;

Living most simply, as our forefathers did;

Serving as occasional bartender at fetes and balls.

A painting of our last hermit is provided for your reference. Your response is kindly requested.