The Naive Artist was inspiried by a road trip I was taking with my playwright friend, Lanford Wilson, in 1991. Lanford was a brilliant eccentric, and was a huge collector of Outsider art. In Memphis, we looked up this African-American artist in the phone book, and drove into the hinterlands of Memphis, eventually finding him painting in a friend's auto garage. The characters were inspired by Lanford and Joe, the rest of the story is fiction.
Road 2 - THE NAIVE ARTIST
A large garage in
a lower income section of Memphis, Tennessee. The
place is packed
with collected junk of every shape and size. A torn,
leather covered
executive chair is framed by the junk like a poor man's
thrown. There are
also a few battered, straight-backed chairs, and
perhaps a dozen
small, unframed paintings.
By far the most
prominent and interesting items are six pieces of art
work: Large
paintings roughly drawn on pieces of scrap metal, wood, and
filing cabinets.
Half depict a vagabond travelling through a a
simplistically
painted country side. The other half are primative
looking,
hemaphrodidic figures with drooping breats and great erect
penises sticking off to the side. A
seventh piece of art work rests on a
straight back
chair, facing upstage at a diagonal and not visible to the
audience.
As the curtain
rises, BYRON MEDA, 50's, is seated in a straight back
chair, staring at
this seventh work of art. He gazes at it for ten
seconds before
JOE LEEVES, 50's, enters, carrying three paint brushes
and an old metal
garbage can lid.
Byron immediately
switches his attention to Joe.
BYRON
Hi!
JOE
Hi.
Joe is tall and
broad; a shy, humble, yet enormously warm man with
interesting
features.
BYRON
I saw your... "whatever", out front.
The car fender.
JOE
Oh, yeah.
BYRON
It's wild.
JOE
Oh, yeah.
Joe's "Oh,
yeahs" can convey many things, including nothing at all, but
it always is
encouraging, as if he enjoys conversation though he doesn't
like to
particiapte.
BYRON
(pointing to the seventh piece)
This is remarkable... It all is.
Every one.
JOE
Oh, well... yeah.
BYRON
Is it alright that I stopped in?
I realize this is probably your
place of business.
JOE
No, it's all right.
BYRON
I'm Byron Meda.
He offers his
hand, they shake.
JOE
Oh, yeah. Hi...
BYRON
It's a great pleasure to meet
you, Mr. Leeves.
Joe reacts,
uncomfortable. He doesn't know how this man knows him,
and Byron sees
this.
BYRON
(continued)
Joe Leeves... It's signed on your
paintings.
JOE
Oh, yeah.... You down visiting Memphis?
BYRON
Yes. I'm from Sag Harbor... Long Island...
on vacation.
JOE
Oh, yeah. Good.
Joe sits in his
chair.
BYRON
Do you do this just for fun?
JOE
Oh, no, I'm....
BYRON
You're commercial?
JOE
Yeah, I'm commercial. Mr. Phil sells
things
for me.
BYRON
Who's Phil?
JOE
Phil Arnold. He's an art dealer.
BYRON
That figures... Well, I hope he
pays you.
JOE
Oh, yeah.
BYRON
Pays you a fair price. I've
heard
stories about art dealers.
JOE
Are you an art dealer--... What's...?
BYRON
Byron.
JOE
Byron? Are you an art--
BYRON
It was my great grandfather's name.
JOE
Oh, yeah.
Byron points at
one of the hemaphrodites painted on a filing cabinet; at
its penis,
actually, which is its most prominent feature.
BYRON
This
is something.
JOE
Umm-hmm.
BYRON
What is this? Sort of a...?
JOE
Mr. Phil call that a "He-She".
BYRON
A He-She? That's marvelous.
JOE
He come in, and was saying, "Joe, what
the hell is this?" You know? And
he said, it's a "He-she".
BYRON
A hemaphrodite.
JOE
Huh? Yeah.
BYRON
He didn't like it?
JOE
Oh, no. He liked it.
BYRON
I think it's terrific....
This is different.
Byron's tone
indicates he is not so excited about one of the small
paintings leaning
against the wall.
JOE
Oh. That's my wife's.
BYRON
Your wife? She paints?
JOE
She started. So did my son. That's
his, there. And those two.
Byron looks at
the son's paintings. He is unimpressed, but polite.
BYRON
Hmm. He likes planes.
JOE
Oh, yeah.
BYRON
Kinda cute.
JOE
You like it?
BYRON
No.
JOE
No, Mr. Phil ain't come around to them, neither.
Byron is back to
the seventh piece.
BYRON
Is this your latest?
JOE
No.
This is.
Joe shows
him a simple landscape painted on a trash can lid. Byron
is clearly
unimpressed.
BYRON
Mm,
just a landscape.
JOE
Oh, yeah. Folks seem to
like it when I
paint junk. On it.
BYRON
Folks do?
JOE
So I been painting on
junk a lot now.
BYRON
Uh-huh.
(regarding
seventh piece)
What about this?
JOE
I don’t show that
one.
BYRON
Saving it?
JOE
Hiding it. It’s
uh--... one I did right before I
met Mr. Phil.
BYRON
He hasn’t seen
it?
JOE
I don’t show
folks.
BYRON
Hm. What does this kind of thing sell for?
JOE
I don't know, really. Another fellow
Mr. Phil buys from say he was selling
his stuff for five-- ten thousand
dollars.
BYRON
Who?
JOE
A fellow down Birmingham.
BYRON
Burgess Granville? No, not that
much. Maybe one or two exceptional
pieces.
JOE
You know Burgess?
BYRON
I've met him once.
Byron senses
Joe's heightened suspicion.
BYRON
(continued)
I'm a collector.
JOE
Oh, you are.
BYRON
Yes. Just private, for my own
appreciation.
JOE
Uh-huh.
BYRON
What does this Phil pay you?
JOE
(proudly)
He pays me by the week.
BYRON
What? Eight hundred?
JOE
(somewhat
deflated)
Three hundred and fifty dollars.
BYRON
Uh-huh.... That kills me. I'm sorry,
but that's just not right. I'm sure
he sells your work for much more.
JOE
You know Mr. Phil?
BYRON
Everyone knows Phil Arnold. He does
this with a lot of artists. He doesn't
even discover them, he just moves in
later, buys them out.
JOE
Yeah... He's been very good, though...
til lately.
BYRON
(probing)
What?
JOE
Oh, well... It's his wife I have
trouble with. She ain't been
sending the checks on time.
She got something against
me,
I think.
BYRON
Why?
JOE
Well, I talked to some others that
he
give money to-- Mr. Phil--
and they say they're getting their
checks on time. She the one writes
the checks.
BYRON
Oh,
that's ridiculous. I'm sorry, but
that's just a front.
JOE
Well....
BYRON
She does whatever Phil tells her to do.
JOE
Well, I know.... Mr. Phil's supposed
to build us a swimming pool, and
I asked her, she said the market's
soft right now, and they can't
afford it.
BYRON
(harshly)
That's ridiculous.
(pause; softer)
Of course, it's all speculative.
Naive art.
JOE
Oh, yeah.
BYRON
It might all be
worth nothing to
Phil. He could end up with a warehouse
full of junk.
JOE
(worried; a little hurt)
Oh, yeah.
BYRON
But I don't think that will be the case
with you.... Three hundred and fifty
is not enough.
JOE
You know, it's not just me. I got
a family.
BYRON
Sure. A large family from the looks
of it.
JOE
Eleven of us. But half are my sister's
family that moved in.... How'd you know?
BYRON
What...? About your family?
(Joe nods)
Oh, I drove by.
(Joe looks at him suspiciously)
I saw the environment you'd created
in the front yard and stopped. Your
wife directed me here.
JOE
Why would you be driving in my
neighborhood, down my street?
BYRON
Oh, I was--.... Well, I'd looked up
your name in the phone book.
I figured as long as I was in Memphis...
You know, there are several prominent
naive artists in this area. Untrained,
like yourself.
JOE
You're a collector?
BYRON
Yeah.
I told you that...
I love outsider art.
JOE
You buy a lot?
BYRON
Well... You know, I guess I own about
three hundred pieces. Including one
of yours. An early one. The one
of Christ, he's walking through a desert,
which I assume is Golgotha....
JOE
I don't recall that exactly, but...
BYRON
It's very much like the black Christ
marching down the beach.
Joe reacts, realizing something.
JOE
Oh. Uh-huh.
BYRON
Mine's an early one; ‘92.
JOE
Oh, yeah.
BYRON
It just kills me that Phil Arnold is
the only one who can buy your work.
JOE
Well, there was a lady come in--
this is after I'd been having trouble
with Mr. Arnold's wife-- you know,
this lady helped me along with some money.
And then, next week, she help me
out with some more, and, you know,
I want to do something nice for her.
BYRON
Sure.
JOE
Yeah. So I gave her something.
BYRON
(perks up)
Oh, really?
JOE
Oh, yeah. But Mr. Phil come in and
he got real angry. He say that lady
was just trying to get a piece of my art.
BYRON
(perks down)
Uh-huh.
JOE
Sometimes, it all be too much.
Too much of
everything but the painting,
you know?
That’s what I liked.
BYRON
The art?
JOE
The art,
uh-huh. Mr. Phil always brag
he
discovered me. Times I wish he would
undiscover me,
but I need the money now.
Didn’t use to,
now I do.
BYRON
It ruins people
like you. Fame.
JOE
(chuckles)
Oh, I ain’t got
that.
BYRON
I wish I were a
rich man. Still
a rich man.
It’s all on my walls now.
JOE
Oh. Uh-huh. Well, you just sell that.
BYRON
I never sell
anything. I can’t.
The way
you need to do your art,
I need to
have it.
JOE
Well.... You know, his wife ain't
been paying me on time. She been
making me feel real low.
BYRON
(re: seventh piece)
And Phil hasn’t this yet?
JOE
No, sir.
Long pause. Byron
takes out a huge wad of cash.
BYRON
I have thirty-five hundred dollars.
(pause)
Phil would never know. It would go
right up on the wall in my bedroom.
JOE
You see the show in New York?
BYRON
What show?
JOE
My show in New York?
BYRON
I didn't know you had a show in New York.
JOE
That's the only way you
seen black Christ on the beach.
BYRON
I
must have seen it in an art magazine.
JOE
No. It went from here to New York
with Mr. Phil.
BYRON
When
did your show open?
JOE
Supposed to open October 27th.
BYRON
That's yesterday. How could I?...
We
must be talking about a different
painting.
(pause)
I'll write you a check for another six hundred.
That'll wipe me out. I
might be able
to get an
increase on my credit limit,
if you can
wait.
JOE
The money don’t bother me, it’s your lying.
BYRON
(pause)
I saw the show. I flew down this
morning to find you.
JOE
So you come down here try
to get me in trouble with Mr. Phil.
BYRON
No.
JOE
See, that's too much. Coming in my
garage, act like you someone else,
being friendly--
BYRON
I wasn't. I was coming to warn you
about Phil Arnold.
JOE
I ain't stupid, you understand?
BYRON
I wanted to meet you. I wanted to
get here before Phil did.
JOE
Why? You just like him.
BYRON
(re: seventh piece)
I'm not. But when I saw this, I had to have it.
JOE
Why?
BYRON
It’s a
masterpiece, Mr. Leeves. And I’ll never
be able to
afford it, not from Phil.
JOE
That don't make sense to me. What
you did. I love what I do, you know,
makes me feel good, but all that lying
and messing with people over money--
BYRON
You were doing
it as well, Joe. Black Christ
on the beach?
You’ve known I’ve been lying,
and said
nothing... It’s something
I’d worry
about... if I were you.
JOE
I just trying to be
smart.
BYRON
Uh-huh.
JOE
(a
bit flustered)
I used to--
Before Mr. Phil-- I--....
I don’t think
you know what art is.
BYRON
No, I do. I can spot it, critique it, covet it,
understand and be
moved by it...
I just can’t--...
(pause)
You’re a genius, Mr.
Leeves. Do you know that?
JOE
Oh, uh.... I
thought “maybe” a few times, I guess.
BYRON
Phil is going to make you sign a contract.
JOE
He don't believe in contracts.
BYRON
That's so he can dump you without
obligation. That was before New York.
I'm just telling you, don't sign it.
JOE
You
may be lying again.
BYRON
The first day, Phil sold everything he had on display.
Your best work. This morning, he doubled
the prices. He’s
selling the leftovers right now.
JOE
Oh.
BYRON
I wanted to get here before Phil
fucked you over.
JOE
Oh, yeah.
BYRON
You're going to be a very rich
man,
Mr. Leeves.
(hands
him a note)
Here’s a lawyer
in New York.
You can trust
him, I’m told.
JOE
Okay.
(pause/unsure)
Thank you?
BYRON
No.
(looks at seventh piece, smiles, almost laughs with delight)
This is beyond anything in your collection.
JOE
Oh, yeah. I like it.
BYRON
Magnificent.
JOE
I guess... I
guess if you want it bad like that...
How much?
BYRON
No. Let me buy
this.
Byron picks up
the trash can lid.
JOE
Oh, yeah. Okay.
So you do like it?
BYRON
I’ll give
you twenty dollars. I want
to put it
back where you
found
it....
Byron tosses it
aside.
BYRON
(cont’d)
You understand,
Mr. Leeves?
JOE
(he does, but...)
I can’t
figure you folks out sometimes.
BYRON
That’s
all right, Joe. Just be careful
you
don’t become us folks.
Byron smiles,
returns to seventh piece. Both men gaze at it.
BYRON
This
is mystical, Mr. Leeves.
(pause)
What
is it?
Both men gaze at
the painting. Joe is embarrassed to reveal it:
JOE
Oh, uh...
(pause)
That's me.
Lights fade.
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