Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Behind the Penmanship: Anatole D'Aubigne
You may have heard of French entertainer Joseph Pujol, aka Le Pétomane, who worked in the late 19th and early 20th centuries farting on stage, but it is far less likely that you have heard the story of Anatole D'Aubigne. Born in 1902, D'Aubigne rose to international acclaim with his magnificent penmanship. If you struggle to understand how someone's penmanship, regardless of its perfect spacing, height, and skilled flourish, could possibly bring them fame the world over, take into consideration that Anatole D'Aubigne wrote with his anus.
As a young man in Bordeaux, Anatole discovered his strange talent after accepting a drunken bar bet. The bet was that he couldn't write his name legibly if he used a fountain pen sticking out of his anus. Placing the pen betwixt his hairy man cheeks, he knelt down and carefully wrote his full name in cursive using a combination of hip swivels and well-timed sphinctoral clenches. After he stood from his crouched position, the bar fell into stunned silence. When Anatole turned around, he realized the reason for the reaction -- his signature was perfect. In fact, it looked better than his regular handwriting. With realization of his newly discovered power, a single tear rolled down his cheek as he tossed the shit-soiled pen into the now-applauding crowd. His prize? Five francs and a handjob from the gruff but well-manicured bartender Francisque.
For nearly a year, Anatole made a living winning similar small bar bets in and around Bordeaux. As weeks passed, his penmanship grew more skilled and flowery. Women swooned when he wrote their names with his hypnotically waggling hindquarters, and men guffawed with approval when he wrote profane words in his intricate, borderline feminine cursive style. But Anatole knew that if he were to make it big, he had to move to the City of Lights, Paris. Using the penmanship money he'd accumulated, he opened a small music shop in Paris so that he could continue to earn money while he tried to win over the notoriously picky Parisians.
Working his way up from bar bets to appearing on stage in small cabarets, Anatole finally hit the big time when he was scheduled to appear as the main act at Odéon - Théâtre de l'Europe. On opening night, amidst his clanging nerves, Anatole rushed to the theater only to find he had left his most important prop at home, his pen. Desperately he asked stage hands and others back stage for a pen, but no one had one. He thought of asking for a pen from the audience, but surely they would laugh him off stage over such an amateurish mistake. Alas, he had no choice.
The curtains rose, and Anatole, as alone on stage as he was in the womb, cleared his throat, dropped his trousers, and took a breath, intending to announce that he needed a pen from the crowd. It was at that moment that he realized he didn't need a pen at all! He pushed, grunted quietly, produced a few centimeters of a firm turd protruding from his anus, and swiveled and puckered, using the feces to smear "Welcome to my show, gay Paris!" in perfectly formed cursive on a piece of canvas. The crowd went utterly insane. They realized they were witnessing a moment of historical genius.
Girl I Painted With My Ass
Anatole D'Aubigne, 1967Throughout the rest of his life, Anatole continued to develop his act and his art. He added still-life drawings and eventually full-blown paintings to his repertoire. His paintings consisted of oil-based paints, water colors, and invariably a partially ejected turd. Many of his works hang to this day in the Louvre in Paris, though in the early 1950's, the museum had to shellac all of them due to complaints of the rank stench of feces wafting from the canvases. Critics complained this move ruined the symbolic nature of his art, but one curator responded, "Symbolic or not, I wouldn't put up with a wealthy artist framing his revered waste on our walls any more than a homeless man shitting in our atrium trash cans."
Anatole D'Aubigne died in his sleep in 1974 at the age of 72. He was posthumously awarded the Legion of Honor, signifying his rank of Chevalier de la Légion d'Honneur. In a speech at the ceremony, then-President Valéry Giscard d'Estaing declared D'Aubigne "...a hero of France. This man and his talented posterior have opened a window to the French soul and have opened our collective eyes and hearts to the love and appreciation of beauty. For this, we shall forever treasure our countryman, our brother, Anatole D'Aubigne."
This post dedicated to Griz.
As a young man in Bordeaux, Anatole discovered his strange talent after accepting a drunken bar bet. The bet was that he couldn't write his name legibly if he used a fountain pen sticking out of his anus. Placing the pen betwixt his hairy man cheeks, he knelt down and carefully wrote his full name in cursive using a combination of hip swivels and well-timed sphinctoral clenches. After he stood from his crouched position, the bar fell into stunned silence. When Anatole turned around, he realized the reason for the reaction -- his signature was perfect. In fact, it looked better than his regular handwriting. With realization of his newly discovered power, a single tear rolled down his cheek as he tossed the shit-soiled pen into the now-applauding crowd. His prize? Five francs and a handjob from the gruff but well-manicured bartender Francisque.
For nearly a year, Anatole made a living winning similar small bar bets in and around Bordeaux. As weeks passed, his penmanship grew more skilled and flowery. Women swooned when he wrote their names with his hypnotically waggling hindquarters, and men guffawed with approval when he wrote profane words in his intricate, borderline feminine cursive style. But Anatole knew that if he were to make it big, he had to move to the City of Lights, Paris. Using the penmanship money he'd accumulated, he opened a small music shop in Paris so that he could continue to earn money while he tried to win over the notoriously picky Parisians.
Working his way up from bar bets to appearing on stage in small cabarets, Anatole finally hit the big time when he was scheduled to appear as the main act at Odéon - Théâtre de l'Europe. On opening night, amidst his clanging nerves, Anatole rushed to the theater only to find he had left his most important prop at home, his pen. Desperately he asked stage hands and others back stage for a pen, but no one had one. He thought of asking for a pen from the audience, but surely they would laugh him off stage over such an amateurish mistake. Alas, he had no choice.
The curtains rose, and Anatole, as alone on stage as he was in the womb, cleared his throat, dropped his trousers, and took a breath, intending to announce that he needed a pen from the crowd. It was at that moment that he realized he didn't need a pen at all! He pushed, grunted quietly, produced a few centimeters of a firm turd protruding from his anus, and swiveled and puckered, using the feces to smear "Welcome to my show, gay Paris!" in perfectly formed cursive on a piece of canvas. The crowd went utterly insane. They realized they were witnessing a moment of historical genius.
Girl I Painted With My Ass
Anatole D'Aubigne, 1967Throughout the rest of his life, Anatole continued to develop his act and his art. He added still-life drawings and eventually full-blown paintings to his repertoire. His paintings consisted of oil-based paints, water colors, and invariably a partially ejected turd. Many of his works hang to this day in the Louvre in Paris, though in the early 1950's, the museum had to shellac all of them due to complaints of the rank stench of feces wafting from the canvases. Critics complained this move ruined the symbolic nature of his art, but one curator responded, "Symbolic or not, I wouldn't put up with a wealthy artist framing his revered waste on our walls any more than a homeless man shitting in our atrium trash cans."
Anatole D'Aubigne died in his sleep in 1974 at the age of 72. He was posthumously awarded the Legion of Honor, signifying his rank of Chevalier de la Légion d'Honneur. In a speech at the ceremony, then-President Valéry Giscard d'Estaing declared D'Aubigne "...a hero of France. This man and his talented posterior have opened a window to the French soul and have opened our collective eyes and hearts to the love and appreciation of beauty. For this, we shall forever treasure our countryman, our brother, Anatole D'Aubigne."
This post dedicated to Griz.
Le Petomane I've heard of, but this sounds like something from a John Waters movie.
In medieval Ireland there were farting court entertainers. There's a name for them but I forget what it is.
this story would make for some great cocktail chatter...you know, when you are at a party or office function and everyone is just standing around waiting for someone to say something.
What a lovely and inspiring story. I think his collection was on loan somewhere the only time I visited the Louvre though. *sad face*
Loops, I believe those entertainers were called "Angie's boyfriend."
Carl, that's a good idea. It's a great icebreaker for the church picnic.
Teucer, there were a few brief periods where the collection was displayed at the Bellagio in Las Vegas and in a restroom at a rib joint in Kansas City. Such a pity you didn't see them.