Piggie in the Middle | Danny Romeril
Image: Danny Romeril’s “Piggie in the Middle” (2018) © Danny Romeril
Snapshot
Danny Romeril’s illustration, Piggie in the Middle
Artist: Danny Romeril
Title: Piggie in the Middle
Illustration (original), graphite on paper
Year: 2018
Dimensions: 8 x 11.5 in
from the LARS “Art in the Apartment” catalog / essay series
A Dinner Delight
There exists a fun social prompt, wherein a peer will ask, “If you were to host an ideal dinner party, who would you invite?” Entertaining celebrities, historical heroes, or deceased loved ones might come to mind. This same once silly and flirty question recently entered the workforce interview, and worse yet, the “fun fact” arena (jobs, they ruin everything!). There, your answer requires more calculation and organization. But here, in light of Danny Romeril’s Piggie in the Middle illustration, I would like to propose an alternative that draws more from the original question’s whimsical imagination. The new game: exploring what’s happening and who these characters are at this dinner party event.
The jutting limbs and simplistic cutlery direct our gaze across the scene – from a set of eye rolls, to a distressed host, and down to the empty seat at the base of the table. Are we the late co-hosts? Well, we'd better promptly assist our partner at the far end, who looks ready to crumble into a puddle beneath his untouched plate.
We are likely an upper-middle-class group of academics who are taken seriously by our peers, yet are several tiers below a supervisor’s tax bracket. Our house parties are more adjacent to Commie happy hours than pretty-young-thing martini mixers. Some va-va-voom stilettos and jet-black eyeliner would have been a welcomed treat here, but this tone is more reminiscent of a Nora Ephron movie, a Noah Baumbach script, or a Village Voice collective. Noticing the tweed outfits and full-coverage clothing, we are disappointed by the level of un-raunchiness at this gathering.
Yet the lack of soiree sultriness does not equal a lack of drama. The gritty urban atmosphere we are noting should come as no surprise when looking through the artist’s larger portfolio, particularly the paintings: Romeril’s fuller body of work often includes musical imagery, especially jazz instruments and band portraits. So perhaps with some naïveté, I see this more as a coming together of bright yet intense minds of a studio-loft blasting punk, full of cool kids. There could be a traditional rose tattoo or two beneath those knits.
Henry Rollins of Black Flag or Ewen McGregor’s Trainspotting character, Mark, could be likely visitors if they promise not to break anything. As could the women from the Neapolitan Quartet novels, by Elena Ferrante, with their razor-sharp minds, though sometimes clouded by the domestic distresses and city crime webs of la dolce vita.
Curiously, no one has cut into the main attraction. Piggie – apple in mouth(!) – is still fully intact, almost waiting to be shared, devoured, and enjoyed. He patiently waits like a gleeful puppy ready to play fetch with that juicy Honeycrisp. The hushed tension that we sense within this illustration is palpable, and now we must seek its source.
Was there a tenure dispute at the university? A philosopher’s quarrel on existentialism? Is it as simple as anxiety around a dietary restriction, so common on today’s hospitality buzz-kill list? Remember, this is meant to be a thrilling investigation! We are reclaiming the dinner party game, one porky picture at a time. We must deduce that there is an affair afoot. Couples, who surely didn’t foresee the final guest list, have found themselves side-by-side, breaking literal bread, questioning the identity of the bedroom bandit, gathering clues alongside us, course by course.
Assuming partners are sitting across from each other, please join in with my position number assignments (former waitress tendencies) – counting clockwise from the bottom left.
Notice position four being the most glum, with downcast, soggy eyes. His date (position six), Colonel Mustard, has a cigarette at the ready and has locked eyes with the jolly youngster across at position two, who is halfway out of their seat, practically prancing towards the long-awaited rendezvous, surely disguised as a smoke break.
Position seven is likely the trusted friend who has advised against such unsavory behavior. Already a socially anxious person, he is truly unable to enjoy himself now, despite being newly confident in his trendy hat (from Barbenheimer summer!). Physically distraught, his empathic arm-lean is covering his theatrical sighs while also keeping his nausea at bay. He seeks help from the good-listening, neutral couple in positions one and nine.
The studious-yet-stale woman at position one slinks down to utilize an unsexy footsie maneuver on her partner, an Ian MacKaye musician type at position nine. He had splurged on a nice vintage of Beaujolais to perfectly pair with the tenderloin, but now all hopes of explaining those tasting notes — along with intertwining a Bordeaux trip flaunt — are squashed. He submits to the distraction and utilizes his right arm to shield his somber mood from the cheated-on Mrs. at position eight.
Unlike the majority of her accompanying diners, position eight is digging in! Perhaps she wore her best lipstick and is relishing being amongst these prestigious peers. Due to this observed sense of peace, let’s not pivot to pity just yet, gentle observer. For her sake, let’s assume she knows of said affair and that she and her spouse have an understanding. Their friends are unaware of this marital arrangement, but please pass the salt, because she is in her prime as well.
After dessert, she will whisper – with sherry-laced breath – that she had such a ball and will wink liberally. She’ll glide to the curb to hail a cab with one hand while the other grips her midnight snack doggy-bag. She’ll have one martini at home as a nightcap, and will leave a light on for her significant other (position two) to safely slip in closer to 2 AM. Our place next time, she’ll think with a smile, that was fab.
Back at the scene, the evening hours will tick by as dishes clank into the crowded sink, friends will lazily support the tidy-up, and buttery fingertips will fasten jacket buttons. During the departures, grateful niceties will be exchanged, and the tenderness of the table hero will be commented on. Piggie! He was meant to be the star of the show, the main attraction, the celebrated soldier, but the surrounding storylines took over.
I imagine Piggie’s deflated psyche feels akin to the piglet, from the movie Babe, who single-hoofedly rearranged the entire farm's animal hierarchy and revolutionized sheep herding, yet received only a lukewarm that’ll do, pig, that'll do as praise. (Time to unionize?). Alas, maybe that is all that being stuck in the middle allows: the others to shine and sort through their own dramas while you shrink out of the spotlight. Well, we are grateful to Piggie for holding down the purgatory middle for us while we acted as art detectives, sorting through the extraneous details. What a rousing game of amusement and imagination through Romeril’s illustration, Piggie in the Middle.
pairs well with:
Citizen Kane (film), Agatha Christie, ordering a virgin bloody mary, ordering a martini just to eat the olive garnish, autumn, The Secret History (book by Donna Tartt), Frances Ha (film), The Squid and the Whale (film), sardines, pickled onions, leather-bound notebooks, “Nick’s Bar, New York City” (an essay by Jean-Paul Sartre), talk radio, calling watches “timepieces”, co-op shifts, Domhnall Gleeson, Clue (the board game)
