WHAT IS ART? PART THREE
Everyone but Biff exits.
ART'S VOICE
I'll be out in a minute, Monsier Shingles,
just
let me throw something on.
BIFF
Of course.
Biff whips off his coke bottle glasses,
trying to get his crossed eyes
to refocus. Putting the glasses on the
coffee table, he opens his
briefcase and pulls out, first, a prayer
mat, then a silver chalice and
then a long curved knife which some might
recognize as a sacred
Pepsmirian disemboweling blade. He tests
the sharpness, but quickly
secrets it and the chalice away again as
he hears Art in the studio.
Suddenly, Biff realizes he doesn't have
his glasses and slides across
the coffee table, slipping htem on and
picking up the remote control
just as Art emerges from the studio,
wearing a spattered paint cloth as
a toga, and holding a blank canvas.
BIFF
I'm really fascinated by this techno-crafty
thing you artists do.
ART
That is my remote.
BIFF
Is it?
Biff presses a button, disco lights dance
across the room as "Staying
Alive" plays. Biff can't help but
"get down" for a moment.
ART
Mr. Shingles!
Biff turns off the music/disco lights.
BIFF
Biff, please.
ART
What is it you wish to know?
As Shingles speaks, Art puts the canvas on
the coffee table, retrieves
two gallon-sized cans of paint, dips his
feet in and begins stepping,
hopping and twisting on top of the canvas.
BIFF
Mr. L'Atexio, as you know,
the N.E.A. has nurtured
the careers of countless artists
once they've become famous.
ART
Ha!
BIFF
But almost as important to us as a
properly formatted grant proposal
in an attractive font,
is the artist's actual artwork itself.
Art spits on the floor at Biff's feet.
BIFF
So, when this new information
about the
thematic content of your
paintings came to light, I felt it necessary
to evaluate their merit first hand.
ART
Their merit?! What right do you have to judge me!?
BIFF
Before I entered Nebraska politics, I used
to be a lounge singer.
ART
I see.
BIFF
Of course, Mr. Stole has a reputation
for sensationalizing things.
All
this hoop-la could be a scheme
to try to drum up business.
ART
What is your point, you innocuous
little Cornbelt absurdity?
BIFF
I'm trying to establish whether or
not you deserve what I plan to
give you.
ART
The grant? Ha!
BIFF
Then what Mr. Stole claims is true.
The "Rearview Religion" exhibition will
be a
series of abstracts depicting the
greatest prophets of Eastern and
Western religion engaged in unnatural
acts with their corresponding political leaders.
ART
(pause)
Maybe yes. Maybe no.
Art retrrieves a third can of paint.
BIFF
This is a very serious
matter.
ART
(a passionate outburst)
I AM SERIOUS!
Art slams the can of paint down on the
coffee table, beheading a pair
of intertwined penise sculptures. Art
continues painting, unphased.
ART
(continued)
My paintings are whatever you take
from
them... If you look at them
and see a sunset, it doesn't make
much difference that I meant for
it to be a cancerous testicle being
tossed out a factory window.
BIFF
I'm interested in what you intended.
ART
My entire body of work is an example of
what I call... Stainism.
BIFF
Stainism?
ART
The juxtaposition of stains.
BIFF
Stains?
ART
Blood. Passion. Coffee. Urine.
What do they mean? Alone? Together?
BIFF
Yes... Yes, I see. Then, for instance,
Baba Mohammed...?
ART
Is a sweat stain. From his years in
the desert, uniting his people.
BIFF
And the Amir?
ART
Blood. For the bloodshed he has caused.
BIFF
Ah, then it's political metaphor rather
than simple, Satanic depravity?
ART
Absolutely.
BIFF
Then George Bush...?
ART
You can imagine what kind of stain
he is.
There is a persistent knock at the door.
ART
Well, thank you. This will
smooth things over, yes?
BIFF
No, I'm afraid someone has to answer
for the offense. I'll have intercourse with
Mr. Stole now.
ART
He would love that, I know.
BIFF
I don't think he will. For your sake,
I hope he confirms your story.
As Biff exits, Fred steps in, mortified.
Art continues painting with
his feet, really beginning to enjoy
himself.
FRED
There are people in Brundi's apartment!
ART
Fred?
FRED
The man was responsible for the execution
and 200,000 peasants!
ART
Fred, you're not a peasant.
Fred unconsciously picks up a penis
sculpture.
FRED
He had his own son's finger cut off
for failing geography.
ART
Fred, you're paranoid.
FRED
I AM NOT PARANOID!
The tension in Fred's hands snap the penis
he's holding cleanly in two.
Fred stares at it, stunned.
ART
This is great, Fred, being an
artist. Everything I say, people
listen.
Fred begins returning the paint cans to
the cart.
ART
(continued)
Things, that if you said
it, they'd think you were an imbecile.
I can philosophize, and hypothesize,
and be condescending and nobody
tells
me to stick it up my--
FRED
Exit! Get out! Goodbye!
ART
Fred, I am so in love
with Vera, it's frightening. You have to
give me ten minutes.
FRED
Ten minutes?
ART
You're right. I'm not putting you
through all this for ten minutes.
Make it thirty.
Fred grabs him to toss him out.
FRED
I'M NOT GIVING YOU ANY MINUTES!
GET OUT OF HERE!
ART
What about Meg?
Meg enters in time to hear:
FRED
I DON'T GIVE A GOOD GODDAMN ABOUT
MEG!
MEG
Fred?
FRED
Meg. Oh, I didn't...
MEG
Sorry to barge in. Mr. Stole wants to
know where you keep your dish rags
and seltzer
water?
FRED
Meg, listen, when you came in just now...
My what!?
MEG
He was standing on the white
tiger rug,
pouring himself a creme
de menthe, and, well, you know how fragile
antique crystal can be...
Art tears off his beard, sticks it to the
wall, snatches a beret off a
hook, dons it to hide the strawberry, then
tries to slip away to the
studio.
ART
(French)
Pardon.
MEG
Art?
ART
(as himself)
Meg! Hi!
MEG
What are you doing here?
An idea is inspired by his wrap around
drop cloth.
ART
Modeling.
MEG
You model for L'Atexio?
ART
Yes, Meg, contrary to popular belief,
I am not useless. I can lounge around
naked with the best of them.
MEG
So where's L'Atexio?
ART
In the studio.
Fred stares at Meg, lovestruck, trying
desperately to communicate.
FRED
You know, I had a friend in second grade
named
Meg.
Meg looks at Fred, confused.
ART
Fred, I think you need to go upstairs and
scrub the ol' white tiger.
Art herd's Fred out.
ART
(continued)
And tell Miss Ranquet that Akril will be
ready for her in five minutes.
He herds Fred out.
ART
(continued)
So, Meg, Akkie and that French art
dealer really hit it off. I guess
you owe me.
MEG
I don't understand, Art.
Why doesn't Fred like me?
ART
(carefully)
Oh, he likes you, Meg.
MEG
I heard what he said.
ART
That's just Fred.
MEG
He seemed so sweet before...
I mean, what could it hurt him
to have come to my party tonight?
ART
(shrugs)
I asked.
MEG
Six months of doing you favors,
and you haven't even gotten me
a real date.
ART
Well, give me a little more time to soften
him up...
MEG
I should just confront him. Let
the chips fall where they may.
ART
No! I know where they would fall. I
couldn't bare it.
MEG
Then I give up.
ART
No, you can't give up, either.
Look, I have an idea. When Mom
comes to visit next week, I'll
set it up so you and Fred
can take her out and show her
the
town.
MEG
He knows Mom?
ART
Oh, yeah, Mom adores Fred.
MEG
Where would we take them?
ART
I wouldn't be there. Too
many patients to see.
MEG
Oh, Art, you're just trying to get
out of dealing with Mom!
ART
(protesting)
No!
MEG
I am not getting saddled with
Mom for the weekend.
ART
She
thinks I'm a chiropractor, Meg,
I don't want to disappoint her.
MEG
You mean you don't want her to
stop sending you the checks for your
fallacious medical equipment.
ART
Look, I told you you could
scam Mom, too, if you wanted,
but you didn't, so don't blame me.
MEG
You are despicable.
ART
You don't
want me hanging around
with you guys, I'd be a fourth wheel.
Mom loves Fred, ask her.
MEG
Mom wouldn't remember if she
loved Fred, and you know that.
Meg turns away, frustrated.
ART
I'm sorry, Meg.
MEG
Why, it's not your fault. I'm just
not Fred's type, I guess.
ART
It's going to happen, Meg, I promise.
We just have to wait until the time is ripe.
It's not a ripe time tonight, that's all.
MEG
Thanks, Art.
Meg notices the broken sculptures.
MEG
My God! What happened to all these
Dee Wraiths?
ART
Dee Wraiths? Oh, the dicks? They
broke. Now, you'd better get going.
Akkie will want to be alone with
Miss Ranquet.
MEG
What about you?
ART
I have to finish modeling.
Just as he lets Meg out, Veronique rushes
in from the kitchen, winded.
VERONIQUE
Akril?!
Art covers his bare mouth and chin, as if
in dismay.
ART
Vera.
Art turns away shyly, long enough to yank
his beard off the wall and
replace it.
VERONIQUE
I ran all the way down from the
penthouse when I heard. Nothing
has
ever made me so happy.
Veronique spins him around to her, kissing
him passionately, digging
her fingernails into his back.
VERONIQUE
You must be relieved.
ART
Yes, I must. And quickly.
VERONIQUE
To have the weight of that lie off
your shoulders.
ART
The lie?
VERONIQUE
About your exhibition. Mr. Shingles
told
us of your retraction, and
of what you said...
(making this sound seductive)
About Baba Mohammed and... Clinton and...
Stainism...
ART
I'm feeling a throb of inspiration.
I must paint you now!
Art puts the chain lock on the front door.
VERONIQUE
No! I am too full of desire
to sit still. Can
you paint with your feet while
you...
ART
Yes!
VERONIQUE
With your...
ART
Yes!
Art jumps up on the coffe table.
VERONIQUE
Then take me.
Vera begins kissing his chest, slowly
moving lower. Art stops her.
ART
Vera? Vera, would you still love me if
instead of Akril L'Atexio, I was,
say... nobody?
VERONIQUE
No.
She begins kissing his stomach. He stops
her.
ART
I mean, if I was otherwise, exactly the same?
VERONIQUE
No.
She kisses his stomach. He stops her.
ART
Exactly, except I wasn't an artist and
I couldn't paint?
VERONIQUE
No.
She kisses him on the lips, he stops her.
ART
(beat)
Okay!
He returns her impassioned kiss. There is
a knock on the front door.
ART
Go away!
FRED'S VOICE
It's Fred!
Veronique shakes her head
"no".
ART
(to Veronique)
I'm sorry. Go into the studio, I'll be in
in a minute.
Veronique tongues his ear and exits into
the studio. Art cracks open
the door without removing the chain.
ART
Five minutes, Fred!
FRED
No! The other's are gone, now's
your chance to escape!
ART
Ten minutes, come on. Meg said
she'd do the town with you and Mom.
FRED
She did.
ART
Only because it was me asking.
Fifteen minutes and I'm gone.
FRED
Art!?
ART
Thanks.
Art closes the door in Fred's face, and
races towards the studio.
Another knock and he must return. He
cracks open the door, leaving it
chained.
ART
What?
A hand lunges in and clutches Art by the
throat. Sid sticks his head
through the cracked door.
SID
(beserk)
WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HIM!!
Art
manages to turn away from Sid, but Sid maintains his choke hold.
ART
(choked French accent)
Sid!? I got the grant!
SID
WE DIDN'T WANT THE GRANT, YOU DIMWIT!
WE WANTED THE PUBLICITY OF NOT GETTING
THE GRANT!
ART
Let go!
SID
OPEN THIS DOOR!
ART
No!
SID
OPEN IT!
Sid bites down on the door chain with
maniacal, super-human strength,
snapping it in half. Now, he is inside,
and bends Art backwards over
the sofa.
ART
Please, Sid!
SID
I TOLD YOU WHAT TO SAY, YOU DIMWIT!
I... You're not my dimwit. Where's...?
Sid stares at Art, and realizes what may
be afoot. To verify his
suspicion, he lifts Art's paint cloth and
looks under it.
SID
You!
ART
I'm sorry.
SID
What did you do with my dimwit!?
Where's L'Atexio?!
ART
Gone.
Fred said he left the country.
SID
Who's Fred!?
ART
The superintendent! He let me in!
SID
Who are you?!
ART
The exterminator!
SID
Why are you posing as L'Atexio?
ART
I was trying to seduce Miss Ranquet!
SID
Well, you're in trouble, my little
bug-murdering friend. Cause right
now, we are going to go down to
the lobby and get Shingles.
(Art reacts)
We
are going to tell him
that he didn't interview L'Atexio,
he interviewed an oversexed trespassing
exterminator in disguise who
I misidentified as L'Atexio, and
I don't even believe that and
I know that it's true!
Sid keeps a grip on Art with one hand,
while he rubs his chin,
thoughtfully, with the other.
SID
(to himself)
Think! I wait til L'Atexio gets back.
Shingles interviews him. Disaster.
Forget it.
(seeing
the headlines in the air)
"L'Atexio Imposter Plunges to His Death".
It's a perfect diversiona nd free publicity.
Shingles forgets all about the interview,
but maybe I'm indicted. Damn!
ART
You could just let me go.
SID
Ah!
I have Shingles in my BMW.
ART
Where's his hotel?
SID
In the Jersey marshes. Before I take
him out there,
I bring him back here.
Only this time you tell
him the right story.
Sid pulls a clipped news article from his
pocket.
ART
That I'm the exterminator?
SID
That you're Akril L'Atexio, but you lied
in a desperate attempt to save your
N.E.A. grant. But you couldn't
live with yourself.
(he hands Art the article)
The truth is, "Rearview Religion" depicts
exactly what I told the New York Times
it depicted. Sickening,
pornographic depravity.
ART
Won't
that upset that right wing,
activist group?
SID
I'm the right wing activist group,
you dimwit.
ART
This is all about publicity?
SID
(mocking him)
"This is all about publicity?"
Publicity
is everything!
I can kill with publicity, I can
raise from the dead! I can
make a run-of-the-mill exhibition
like L'Atexio's sell out in one day!
All you have to do is pretend you're him.
ART
I can't do it.
SID
You're already doing it!
ART
I mean, I can't say my work's pornographic.
Vera won't like me.
SID
She'll hate you if I tell
her you're not L'Atexio. You can
be arrested and hated for her sake
or loved and compensated for mine.
Veronique, clad only in her rather
impressive underwear, peeks in from
the other room.
VERONIQUE
Akkie? Oh, Mr. Stole.
SID
Yes, I was just congratulating Akkie
on securing that grant for us.
VERONIQUE
Congratulating?
SID
Remember, Akkie, the most valuable
thing you own is your soul. I should know,
I've made millions selling mine.
VERONIQUE
How have you sold your soul, Akkie?
SID
Oh, nothing. Nothing. Well, I'll
just be going...
(waits
for Art to chime in/
Art is having an internal struggle)
I'm going now... On my way out... Now!
ART
Wait! I have a
confession.
VERONIQUE
A confession?
ART
I cannot live with the lie.
VERONIQUE
What lie?
ART
The lie about the lie.
I must retract my retraction.
VERONIQUE
What are you saying?
ART
What they wrote in the New York
Times is true. I lied in a desperate
attempt to save my N.E.A. grant.
I'm sorry, Vera.
SID
You couldn't let it go, could you?
(more concillatory)
Well, you were honest. I
respect
that. I suppose now you want
me to retrieve Mr. Shingles
so you can confess to him?
ART
Yes.
SID
(aside to Art, with a nudge)
I'll take my time.
Sid goes. Art hangs his head.
VERONIQUE
Drop your robe off your shoulders.
(Art looks up)
I want to be done with this.
ART
You mean, you still... You
don't hate me?
VERONIQUE
I think you are pitiful.
ART
(disappointed)
Oh. So it's like a pity-fa... a sympathetic
liasson. I didn't know you had those in France.
VERONIQUE
Get
on your hands and knees and
face away from me.
ART
Sure, I'm easy.
VERONIQUE
Are you familiar with Abraham and Issac?
ART
Is that Motown?
VERONIQUE
The story from the Christian Bible.
Art gets on his hands and knees atop the
canvas, facing away from
Veronique. Veronique takes off her scarf,
blindfolds Art, then moves to
her purse.
VERONIQUE
God told Abraham to kill his son, Issac.
ART
God did? He sounds like a religious fanatic.
Veronique removes a silver chalice and a
Pepsmirian disemboweling blade
from her purse.
VERONIQUE
It was a leap of faith. Even though
Abraham loved his son, he was
willing to sacrifice him for
his God.
ART
Is this getting you hot, or is
it for me?
VERONIQUE
It's for you.
She pushes his face onto the canvas and
raises the knife over her head.
VERONIQUE
I still love you, Akril L'Atexio!
ART
(muffled by the canvas)
I love you, Vera Ranquet!
VERONIQUE
(in
Arabic)
"Death to the infidel in the name
of Baba Mohammed!"
ART
Aribe! Aribe!
Just as she is about to insert the
disemboweling blade, the front door
opens. An elderly WOMAN with a blonde perm
stands in the doorway.
WOMAN
What are you doing to my son?
ART
(beat)
Mother?
It is Art's mother, DOT ANGELEY. She
carries a large purse and an
overnight bag which she swings at
Veronique.
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