"And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the money changers, and the seats of them that sold doves, and said unto them, 'It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves." -- Jesus of Nazareth - Source: The Holy Bible, Matthew 21:12

 

April 1992

 

A few days later Kenny calls and says that Magda does not have to a studio inspection after all and give me approval and that I can just go there and tell her about my sexwork. I decide not showing the sex pieces after all.

 

So I thought about doing a piece on appropriation and art ready-mades and art dealers instead.

 

I meet Magda in the Postmasters Gallery and she asks me into her office. So I give her this typed out concept called "Object Trove" about Marcel Duchump and another one titled "Erik O gallery" it was doing a show within Kenny’s show of these ready-mades of other artists art work that I had bought. I told her it was a piece on ready-mades and that I wanted to install Erik O as the art dealer to sell the work as mine.

 

She said she liked the idea and all was well and the show was on. 

 

 

These are the pieces she read.

Object trove

Marcel Duchump set up an object chosen at random (a bottle rack) on a pedestal and exhibited it. Jean Bazine wrote of it: "this bottle rack, torn from its utilitarian context and washed up on the beach has been invested with the lonely dignity of the derelict, good for nothing, there to be used, ready for anything, it is alive, it lives on the fringe of existence, it's own disturbing absurd life, the disturbing object - that is the first step to art"

"In it's wired dignity and abandonment, the object was immensely exalted and given significance that can only be called magical, hence it's disturbing absurd life, it became an idol and at the same time, an object of mockery, it's intrinsic reality was annihilated." Carl G, Jung from "Man and his Symbols"

 

14 authentic original art works including ready-mades in the tradition of Marcel Duchamp will be exhibited in a imitation "white room" gallery, and by doing so, transform these readymade art work objects, made by various artists into John LeKay readymade art works. 

 

Once again exalting these abandoned, or in this case bought artworks, for the sole reason of exhibiting them again, but under a different name, then sold by another dealer in another curators show that also happens to be in another art dealers gallery. By doing so, the idea of the ready-made, it's intrinsic reality once again is annihilated in reverse and its utilitarian intention is once again restored. As a result of doing this absurd gesture, everything becomes a ready made, including the other artists in the show, the dealer, the curator.

 

This real life play is a mock gallery, selling mock art by another mock artist and sold by a mock dealer, but bought by serious art collectors, so that this serious interaction between art and life become one, the cycle is completed and we all end up with another complete serious mockery.

 

Life imitating art, art-imitating life are one and the same. The magic spell is broken, ready-mades are made useful, the readymade will once return to it's original state and become a normal original object like it was before Marcel Duchamp glorified it into a work of art. Cinderella the clock struck 12, back to rags like before it was an illusion, the magic has worn off, reality is back, the readymade has lost it's magic and now has become "good for something"

 

 

Erik Oppenheim Gallery

 

Erik O proudly presents John LeKay ready-mades from 1990-92. In this new body of work, John  LeKay investigates the meaning and question of what is a readymade.

 

Erik Oppenheim, installed by John LeKay as a ready-made art dealer, selling ready-made art works by other artists, as ready-mades by John LeKay, will address the questions of what is a gallery and what purpose does it serve?

 

Such as what is an art dealer?  Is an art dealer more than a sales person, what roles do they play in terms of what is accepted and what is not, like the middle man, the go between, the person that supposedly brings everything together?

 

Are dealers also not like artists, making the selection and deciding what shows and by doing so, determines on what the public will see and what the critic will see? 

 

What is the difference between another white room in an office building or factory show room and an art gallery?

 

Has the art gallery lost it's meaning and what is a gallery supposed to be?

 

Is it supposed to be a neutral place, a place of contemplation, where supposed art can be placed into without distractions from the outside noisy and disturbing world?

 

Is the gallery an escape, like a 3 dimensional movie that we walk into, to experience the artists mind thoughts, ideas, feelings, emotions? 

 

Is that what a gallery is, a box, a white cube to enclose an artists soul, so that we can see it, touch it, hear it, smell it. 

 

A middle ground and a place of communication with the artist and the public?  Between the artist’s studio and the outside world?

 

Can the gallery be an uncontaminated context to house these things, these thoughts, ideas, and opinions without distracting them by its reputation?

 

Such as the art dealers personal politics, sexual preference, taste in art, fashion, philosophy? 

 

Are not all these things a part of the gallery?

 

His or her personalities, the manor in which they interact with the public, the way they dress, behave, feel, and talk. The artists that they have decided to show, the image they create of the gallery and present to the outside world?

 

Does that not also reflect on the artwork that is shown in their arena?

 

This so called uncontaminated context, the white room that glorifies and emphasizes anything that is placed into it with spot lights like a stage, a theater, everything becomes animated?

 

The curator, what exactly is their role in taking part in all of this? 

 

Are they also an artist of some sort since they select these objects by artists and then carefully arrange them in a certain way, in this white room, just like what the artist does?

 

If so, what is the difference between an artist and a curator?

 

The artist selects materials combine them, paints them, rearranges them and then places then in this white room.

 

These materials that the artist uses, where do they come from?  What were they before the artist decided to use them, manipulate them, change them, rearrange them, and play with them? 

 

These things he uses or supposedly creates.

 

But how can one create when whatever material one uses was already created by something else, or by itself.

 

A painting, where did the wooden stretcher bars come from, who made them?  Were they not a part of a tree?  The canvas, who made that, where did the linen come from?  The paint, who made that, did it not come from pigment in the ground?

 

So then what is the difference between the artist, curator and dealer?

 

They all make decisions as to what the public will see and how they see it, yet the artist uses an object, as it is, a readymade, sometimes transforms the elements and label’s it something else.

 

The artist takes a tree, destroys it, cuts it down, and makes what is then labeled a sculpture. Isn't the tree to begin with more perfect, living and breathing, nesting birds and insects playing it's part in the eco system more beautiful than any manmade synthetic so called art work?

 

If so, how does one justify destroying this perfect thing called a tree and with it's mutilated body parts, exhibit it in this white room like a dead corpse?

 

But does not the dealer also do the same thing by selecting artists to show in their white room?

 

Is that not doing the same thing the artist does by selecting materials?

 

This artist that leaves a slimy trace that it calls art, like a slug it moves and excretes this residue of thought, emotion, it's experience of life.

 

These things labeled artists they come in different shapes and colors, they make different noises, they look different from one another, the slime trace they leave behind has it's own unique slim trace like a finger print, one of a kind.

 

Isn’t this unique thing we call the artist, this trace they call art?

 

Then if it is, is it not the dealer who selects the trace, this thing that they show to the world, this fingerprint that they label art?

 

The readymade, what is it, where did it come from?  This object that was already made, that once is placed in this white room is magically transformed into so called art, who is this magician?

 

Where did they get this authority to perform this magic trick, where did they learn to be able to perform these feats of magic, or is it not magic at all but an illusion, a game, a con, deception?

 

What is the difference between Marcel Duchamps urinal and say another urinal?  Were they not both manufactured for urinating in?

 

If I were able to walk up to Marcel Duchamps urinal and pull out my penis and urinate in it, would that not be the same urinal as another?

 

Is not everything a ready-made, the gallery the dealer, the secretary, the doorman, the elevator, the street, the sky, the world, the universe?

 

What if I were to claim the entire universe as one of my ready-mades including every single work of art concept, statue, painting that has ever been made since the beginning of time as one of my ready-mades, what would that mean?  Where does one draw the line? Where are the boundaries?

 

What if I were to buy ready-mades by other artists and claim them as my own ready-mades and then show them in this white room, then whom would be the artist?

 

Who has the authority over this so called readymade art, the artist who originally made them, or myself, or the other artist who bought these objects like buying lumber in a lumber yard and then showing this lumber as ready-mades?

 

What if I were to buy Duchamps urinal and hook it up in my bathroom and urinate into everyday and turn it back to what it was manufactured for to begin with, to be used for urination?

 

What would it be then? 

 

Would it be the same as other urinals or would it be urinal that once was originally a urinal, and was then magically transformed supposedly into this relic of a Marcel Duchamp icon and this so called creation of his?

 

Then if I were to piss on it, would that not transform it back to what it was to begin with and set it free from this absurd label of "a work of art"?

 

What if I put my cigarettes out in it, would that make it an ashtray?

 

What if I put it over my head, would that make it a hat?

 

Was it not the concept that was the art, the original idea to begin with?

 

So if the idea of readymade was a concept, then why have people been using the same idea over and over again, like painting the same picture over and over again?

 

Are there no more original concepts? 

 

Or has this concept become a commodity, this glorified object, this thing that has monetary value? 

 

A concept that the white room needs to sustain itself.  Is that what it is about, sustaining the white room?

 

But are not concepts intangible things, ethereal, immaterial, like gas blowing in the wind?

 

Then if they are, then what is conceptual art for?

 

What can't we all sit down together and talk, communicate our ideas, thoughts and feelings, emotions and concepts?

 

Isn’t that more ethical, moral than destroying the earths natural resources and making these dead inanimate objects with them and labeling them art?

 

But would that not be the end of art, the dead end?

 

The readymade, the clever trick Duchamp played on us, think about it, everything is a readymade. There is no difference between a Duchamp urinal and another one.  It’s the idea that was important, not the object itself; the object is meaningless, because everything is a readymade.  It’s all the same difference, except for the label that's applied to it.

 

The artist and life is one and the same, there is no separation. The artist is no different from anyone else, the same as a plumber or truck driver; we all use the same world, live under the same sky breath in the air.

 

The only difference is the artist is skilled in expressing his ideas, like a plumber is skilled in repairing a leak; it's the skill, the knowledge and ability and the use of experience combined to communicate the ideas that make it “art” or not.  Not the object itself.

 

But if anyone can take this thing called the readymade and place it in a white room called a gallery, then cannot a plumber do the same and call himself an artist too?

 

That's where the problem is, there are too many bullshit artists around that call themselves artists when in actuality they are just plumbers masquerading as artists. 

 

Because it does not make any difference anymore because anything is labeled art these days no matter what you do, or say, or you make. That is why the gallery system is not even showing “art” anymore, but the residue of dead ideas that have been flogged to death through over use without any sense or idea as to what any of them mean.

 

The readymade is a dead end to nowhere.  It's redundant.  It's not the white room that's the problem; it's what is placed into the white room, that’s the problem.

 

 

The press release by Kenny Schachter.

 

ETHICAL CAFE

 

This show will focus on individual ethical decision-making processes. We are daily faced with the task of numerous moral judgments on a multitude of issues, the consequences of which can be lasting and indelible or inconsequential; yet, regardless of the impact such decisions may have on our lives, they are telling signs of an individuals moral make up. This exhibition will explore how we define, construct and out into action a personal code of ethics, Nietzsche said each individual alone establishes ethical guild lines to live by which may account for the "skeleton in the closet" that we all invariably possess.

 

Our society is wracked by moral shortcomings apparent in omnipresent scandals such as savings and loan officers (and their lawyers and accountants) that dealt one to the public while retaining three for them selves; congressional check kiting and over drafting folly: the overweening Wall-Streeters of the late eighties; international money launder mats, a politician that claimed to do drugs without ingesting them; sexual harassment and rape involving sports figures and others (and a certain medical student) that were selectively hard of hearing when it came to the word "no" and a hotel queen that advertised her business acumen yet could not determine if her bras were a legitimate tax deduction.

 

In the art world, a materially successful participant is looked upon as suspect, as someone having sacrificed integrity, artistic or otherwise, in order to get ahead. Can success only be had by bowing to commercial considerations and compromise? Can one advance without engaging formulas or being cowed by pressure to conform, in economically difficult times? This show will address, through video art, painting and sculpture, the various moral implications of the questions posed above as well as attempt to depict through diverse works of art ethical system of behavior.

 

A cafe will be set up in the gallery to promote a social atmosphere within the space and performance and readings will be scheduled throughout out the show.

 

Chapter 43. Non dual Harmonic convergence

 

It was a lovely spring Friday, excuse me Thursday afternoon, the birds were tweeting, the sun was shining as I drove into Soho and parked the car in the same place where I always feel like someone’s playing a sick joke on me and making up prices of the top of their heads. 

 

I walk down Green St carrying the pieces on my back and lug them up a flight of stairs to the Postmasters Gallery to install my show with Erik O and Kenny Schachter was already there and shows me the small room with the fire place and points to half a wall tells me that is where I can put my work.

 

I notice that this other female artist who was also in the same room was assigned the entire opposite wall to do her John Gotti piece.

 

I hang the Colin De Lands, aka J St Barnard doggy bone piece in the air off invisible filament wire and stick Dan Ashers wrathful oil stick painting on the wall with push pins.

 

I also hang my hippy psychedelic spill painting with an empty toilet roll stuck in it center on a nail and put a bottle of Clorox bleach in the corner and an empty Barneys shopping bag on the floor and a Raymomd Pettiborn "this subject is too physiological for the general reader" piece on the wall next to Dan Ashers painting. 

 

Magda the art dealer walks over, looks at the empty Barneys shopping bag on the floor and Dan Ashers oil stick painting and I could her breathing really heavily down my neck and then she walks off making a loud exhaling sound.

 

3 seconds later Kenny walks over all apologetically and says "Magda does not want Dan’s painting in the show, I think you should take it out, she really doesn't like it".

 

I said "great I love it already, that means it must be really good" then Magda came over and

Said "Was he serious when he painted it"

 

I said, "Yes but he's work is like that"

 

She said, "When did he paint them"

 

I said "in the early 80s when he was hanging out with Jean Michel Basquiat"

 

She says "But it's ugly and obnoxious"

 

I say "It's deliberately obnoxious and anti aesthetic" and she walks off and I hear her say to Kenny "I don’t want that ugly painting in the show"

 

Then Kenny came over and said "Magda said just because it's obnoxious does not justify it being in the show"

 

I continued doing the rest of the installation then Erik shows up and we asked the guy named Tomas If he has a pedestal for the parrots and my artist wind flatulence piece in a bottle and he takes us down stairs and gives me this grungy looking pedestal with cob webs on it and I put Dan’s tape recording parrots on it and my artist wind piece on the other.

 

Tomas said, "I want to paint the pedestal, they look awful"

 

I said, "Actually that's what I like about it"

 

And he walked off looking really frustrated.

 

Erik says "This installation needs more space, why does that artist have the entire wall", pointing at the wall with a gigantic John Gotti head painted on it "And our installation looks really cramped.  Why don't we use the vacant space (meaning the gap between our piece and the fire place) and a put a piece on the ugly fire place"

 

I said "Because it's reserved for King Kenny, he wants to put his Jeff Koons copyright infringement puppy court case piece there but I agree with you, it would make our installation a lot better and it definitely could use more space"

 

Erik O said "I want to contribute some things to the installation and make it look more like my office and to match the ugly fire place. Why don't we move everything down and use up the rest of the wall"

 

I agreed with Erik that our installation was a little cramped then Erik and I decided to go to Novo Center for a coffee break and afterwards I picked up Lyn and then we picked up Erik’s couch, his grandmothers antique rug at his studio at Pat Hearn Gallery in the basement.  I also made a table out of a thick piece of glass over a trashcan filled with garbage and we took all these pieces over to the Postmasters Gallery to set up an imitation art gallery.

 

We set up the rug and the couch and stinking garbage filled coffee table and the art works on the wall and Magda came over and looked horrified and says "You cant put the couch there because its too close to Kenny’s piece".

 

So I moved it.

 

Then she said, "You cant put the rug there because it doesn’t work" so I pulled it over and

I did not say anything.

 

Magda and Tomas were walking in every second, she said "That doesn't look right, this doesn't look right, you cant put anything on that wall because of Kenny’s piece, you have to leave it blank"

 

I thought to myself who does she think she is telling me how to make my art work, but I kept calm and relaxed and swallowed my Adams apple and smiled when she says "Put this over there or leave that there" and I just did what she said because I did not want any trouble.

 

Lyn and Erik were shaking their heads in disbelief; they could not believe the audacity of Magda and Tomas telling me what to do to the installation. I wanted to hang an artists drawing on top of the couch but Magda says "No way you have to leave it blank for Kenny"

 

Then when she walked out of the room I decided to hang it anyway and took Kenny’s piece of the fireplace and put Rirkrits Rocking Roll bottle there instead and nailed a one dolor bill to the wall like they do in pizzerias for good luck right on top of where Kenny’s piece was just to see what it would look like.

 

Then Magda came over and screeches, "I told you, that's where Kenny’s pieces should be, I told you, put it back"

 

I said "Let me tell you something, when someone asks me to be in a show with them, I do what I want, take it or leave it, if you want me in the show, then this is the installation and I'm not going to move another fucking thing"

 

Then Tomas jumped in and said, "How dare you talk like that"

 

I said "Who are you anyway, whose the artist here, me or you, who are you to tell me how to make my art work, how I install it what pieces I put in"

 

He snaps, "I'm the owner, this is my gallery" 

 

At this point, I said "I don't give a fuck whose gallery this is, this is my fucking art work and my installation if you don't like it tell me to fuck off and I will"

 

He said, "How can you disrespect Kenny like that, taking down his piece"

 

I said "Kenny can hang his piece anywhere in his show, so why should his piece fuck up my thirty foot installation"

 

He said, "We have to control the space"

 

I said "That's my point, control, there’s the problem, your hung up on controlling the artists, ok do what ever you like, it's your gallery, your show" and I left and walked out and left the installation half finished and drove home.

 

That night Kenny calls and says "I have two things to say to you, number one that piece stays on top of the fire place no matter what, number two, if you don't think that I'm an artist"

 

I interrupted him and said, "Ok fine I'm out of the show" and slammed down the phone.

 

So let's analyze the problem here.

 

A. Kenny wants to place his own art piece on top of the fireplace but I also want my art piece on top of the same fireplace, which happens to be in the center of my installation.

 

B. Kenny is the curator of the show but he is also an artist in the show.

 

C. I'm an artist in his curated show but I'm also a curator of an installation of another gallery and art dealer within his show.

 

D. So is it ethical that Kenny’s curatorial authority should impose on my own curatorial authority and installation by him also playing artist and putting his art piece right smack in the middle of my curatorial installation. Is this not trespassing on my installation and my artwork? A violation of my artist boundaries?

 

The fact is Kenny asked me to be in this show on ethics and morals, right and wrong, then I give him a real piece on it and everyone freaks out.

 

The next day, Friday June 5th, 2002 I wake up thinking about the argument the night before with Magda and Tomas, so I decide to call Erik O and meet him so we could get together with Kenny and work this thing out once and for all before Magda throws it out.

 

Lyn called Kenny and told him what happened and that before he makes decision on the fireplace he should go down there and look at it first.

 

It was pouring down with rain, so I ran to the car and drove down the Westside high way thinking about a possible solution.

 

I get to Erik’s basement and he looked really pissed off about this personal remark that Kenny made to him the night before and said "I'm going to blacken Kenny’s eye".

 

I said "Let's not do anything irrational like that becomes violence wont get us anywhere but if Kenny does not budge his piece of the fire place then well play endgame and do a scatter piece with the installation and then neither Magda Kenny or Tomas will be able to dictate to us what our conceptual and artistic boundaries are, or how and what we can put in the show, all they can do is throw the entire installation out and if they do, c'est la vie" 

 

Erik said "Lets go" lighting up a Marlborough.

 

Kenny was not there, Magda and Kenny’s assistant was there, Erik asks Magda, "Where’s Kenny"

 

Magda says, "He hasn't shown up yet" so we went to the Novo Center to get some coffee. Erik had a regular espresso and a regular coffee on the side and I had a regular coffee and then another.

 

I said "I found Magda really insulting last night telling me how do my installation, wanting to take out Dan’s painting and calling it ugly and making us move the couch and the rug, it's as if she thinks I'm a fucking furniture remover and treated me as if I've never been in a gallery show before".

 

He said "Well isn't that what the show is all about, where you draw the line in the sand and stepping over that line"

 

Thinking of Lawrence of Arabia I said "Yes but now we've got to communicate that to Kenny somehow before Magda throws it out"

 

So we decided to walk back in the rain over to the Postmasters Gallery and Kenny is there sprawled out on the floor with his Chinese dog Hey, on its chain. We both say hello and Kenny gets up and followed us into the fire place room and said "When you agreed to doing the show you said you were going to show this and this (pointing to the pieces on the wall) and then you asked Erik O to join you and he starts bringing in his furniture and taking over the entire exhibition".

 

I said, "He's not taking over, that's a part of the piece"

 

Kenny said, "I asked you to be in the show not him. When you said you wanted to do the show, you said you would put this and this" pointing to the pieces on the wall "then you ask Erik to join you and Erik started bringing in his furniture and taking over the installation"

 

I said "Look that's a part of the piece, it's a collaboration with Erik and I and I gave him the permission and I asked Erik to do it with me for specific reasons"

 

Kenny said, "I asked you to be in the show not him"

 

I said, "Right but I asked Erik and I did so on purpose to play curator like you selecting artists and making decisions"

 

Kenny drew a blank.

 

So I said, "So what’s happening with the piece"

 

Kenny said, "Well I don't like the rug and the sofa and Eriks contributions"

 

I said "I like it and I think Eriks participation has improved the installation and made it a whole lot better than it was"

 

Kenny said "It's interfering with Norma Hymens John Gotti piece"

 

I said, "What's all this favoritism bullshit anyhow, how come she get's a whole wall”

 

Kenny drew another blank

 

Then I said "And your piece looks absurd on top of the fire place, why are you trying to steal the show"

 

Kenny snapped "I fucking like it there it's my fucking art piece and it's going fucking to stay and don’t like the rug and the sofa and Eriks contribution and I want them out".

 

I realized I was in a real predicament, I looked at Magda and saw Nurse Ratchets triumphant clinical stare from "One flew over the cuckoos nest.

  

I felt trapped and realized this is what I'm up against and I said "Ok fine then I Kung Fu kicked the pedestal with my bottled artist wind flatulence piece and it smashed as it hit the glass table and smashed it and the plastic parrots fell to the floor and started squawking like crazy, pulled Eriks grandmothers antique rug from underneath everything and upturned Eriks "Lets Do Lunch" couch and turned everything upside down and said "There you go that's my new installation it's my new composition, a new arrangement, how do you like it"

 

Kenny said "That's fine do what ever you like"

 

Then Magda ran over to the phone and called the cops.

 

I said, "Oh man this is absurd, I'm only doing a new installation and now she calls the cops"

 

Erik then walked over to Kenny with his long scraggly hair and said "Tell me now to my face what you said on the phone last night" and raised his fist like he was going to punch Kenny in the face. I jumped in the middle and split then up and said, "Let's be civilized about this, that won't get us anywhere"

 

Erik said, "Yes your right" and we all sat down in silence and waited for the cops to arrive.

 

A few minutes later, I heard this loud unpleasant knocking at the door which made me really nervous and my heart started racing and skipping beats and my mouth went really dry and my Adams apple was doing summersaults and the door flies opens and 5 LAPD looking macho geeks walk in.

 

Magda lets in five Police officers holding nightsticks and they scream at Kenny to take his dog in the other room because his dog started barking like crazy. The cop said, "Where is the disturbance".

 

Then Magda stood up and I realized that the dynamics of power had instantly flipped and she pointed to Erik and I and said, "Those two vandals are not a part of this gallery, they destroyed the art work, I want them out"

 

I said pointing to Kenny "He invited me to do an art piece, now I've done my piece, now she doesn't like it and wants to throw not only the conceptual art work out but also us out of the gallery"

 

The cops says "I said where’s the disturbance" looking impatient and not amused.

 

I say, "I don't know what your talking about officers, all we did was make conceptual art. Its scatter art”

 

Magda screams pointing to Erik and I "Those two sitting over there are not a part of this Gallery, they destroyed the artwork" pointing to the other room "and I want them removed right now".

 

The cop says, "Ok buddy you heard the lady, she's the owner of the premises you've both got to leave".

 

Another cop said, "You heard the lady get up and get out" really obnoxiously, so we did and walked down the steps.

 

On the way out the cops made these wisecrack jokes, I just kept quiet and walked out into this down pour of rain.  I wanted to stay under the shelter but the cops said "getthefuckoutahere" and pushed me onto the sidewalk.

 

We walked back to his office in Pat Hearn’s basement and made some awful muddy black coffee and Erik started looking at a Playboy magazine and we called up Kenny and told him that we would go there and remove the piece before the opening if that's what Magda wants and no one has to know a thing or if she likes she can leave it as is.

 

Kenny said, "Magda wants to throw it out"

 

I said " Kenny this is really getting out if hand, what can we do about this"

 

Kenny says "Don't worry ill straighten it all out but she really pissed off she took it personally"

 

I said, "Shit, you know it's not that"

 

He says, "Yes I know, I understand what your doing but she doesn't"

 

I said "Fuck, this is becoming a real fucking nightmare" I realized that Magda had the power and the last word and control over the piece and it really made me question who is the artist, I thought it's not Eriks or mine, we were just the delivery boys to carry it there for her, to manipulate us to move it, this over here, move that over there, like brainless robots.

 

Kenny said "I like it, I think it's better than before, I'm going to get her to try and change her mind and have her leave it as is" 

 

Later that night, I called Kenny and said "ill go there and take my piece out and to tell Magda that whatever she decides to do would be fine with me even if she wants to throw it out and I would just "let it be" and accept the fact that it's the same old story again that the artist is always second to the dealer unless they think you're important and sell your work and collectors go nuts over it then they need you and the dealers kiss your ass and so does everyone else"

 

Kenny says, "Well I'm going to try and get her to change her mind"

 

I said "Good at least that way others could experience it"

 

Kenny calls back a few minutes later and says "She changed her mind, it's accepted and we can leave it there on the condition that you are not allowed to go to the opening or step foot in her gallery again"

 

I said "That's fine with me" but I wasn't going to make a big Broadway extravaganza out of it.

 

Kenny said "It was electrifying when you did your installation, it was like a scene out of a Clock Work Orange. I really like it, I think it's an incredible piece and I understood it all along and I think it's even better than before"

 

I say, "Why is that"

 

He says "Before it looked too Erik Oish"

 

I agreed and that's how we left it.

 

The opening of the Ethical cafe (the saga continues)

 

Saturday morning the day of the opening, the phone was ringing of the hook, everyone was calling like crazy. David Kelleran said that he had stop by that morning to photograph the scatter installation for us and had over head Magda telling this group of important art collectors and a bunch of art critics and artists that we were vandals and our scatter installation wasn't even art and not to be confused between our scatter piece and a real authentic scatter piece by someone like Karen Kilemnick.

 

I said "Interesting, it looks like we've been conceptually bushwhacked, we both better act fast and type something and take it there tonight".

 

I got on my typewriter and typed a bunch of pages John Decay style and drive into the city to drop by 303 Gallery and Gavin Brown and Erik O were reading the piece Erik O did on the incident the day before.

 

Gavin was acting as my business advisor and unofficial manager at the time and I showed them my final solution piece and Erik gave me his "The Gravy made the meat sweet” We made a stack of Xerox copies on Lisa Spellmans machine and Gavin Brown, Lyn, Erik O and I decided to walk over to the Postmasters Gallery and stand outside and hand them out.

 

Kenny Schachter had hired this police wagon to park outside, it was really humorous after what had happened the day before and a large crowd of art goes had converged, all different types, artists collectors, critics, magazine editors and different sorts of bums off the street.

 

I was standing on the side walk wearing my Pig T shirt, yellow silk JPG jacket and purple count Dracula sun glasses feeling like a fucking court jester handing out my press release to the crowd which parted as if I were Moses with my 10 commandments and talking to my comrades when Roberta Smith the art critic from the New York Times asked me for a copy.

 

I went across the street to the Korean deli underneath 303 gallery to by some water Avian because all the people were gawking at me and whispering things and not being able to go upstairs and attend my own art opening to see my latest work of art, while standing proudly next to my piece like your supposed to do in case these people had any important questions.

 

But no I had to do this outside in the dirty Soho street like low down two bit street vendor who has to watch out over his shoulder to see if the cops were gonna move him for selling his umbrellas.

 

Anyway after explaining the concept of the piece to a few hundred people, Lyn me that every one was saying that it wasn't ethical that Erik and I had to stand out in the street when Kenny was upstairs greeting all his friends while sitting around the make shift cafe and talking about morals and ethics with all the other artists in the show.

 

I realized it didn't look good and some people were getting the wrong impression and my thoughts were going a mile a minute, because It suddenly dawned on me that we had been bushwhacked and side of the story was being brushed under the carpet. People were telling me that Magda had been telling everyone all day long that our spontaneous scatter piece was not art.

 

I thought what a joke, if it's not art then what’s it doing in a art gallery and if it's not art then nothing else in the gallery is art nor in the gallery next door or on Broadway or 57th St, there was no concept of reality in that line of reasoning. It was totally illogical, I even told them after I had rearranged the composition that was and was to be left as is and tiled it "Another  Harmonic Convergence in F Flat minor"

 

They must be blind, I thought, it's a wonderful work of art, can't they see, all I did was mealy compose it like an improvised symphony using different instruments like the shouting and screaming, the barking dog, the thunder and lightning storm out side, the cops, the arguments, the Ethical Cafe theme of the show, until it erupted into a beautiful chaotically ordered poetic climax.

 

I thought what is the art world coming too. Everyone was saying how come Kenny’s upstairs greeting his friends, if you not allowed in then none of us should be and we should all walk in together or walk out together and picket the show.

 

So a bunch of us decided to go on up and guess who’s standing at the door, Kenny Schachter, the shit stirrer of Soho and he pleaded with me to not to go in.

 

I walked on by and quickly walked around for 5 seconds and out again and down the steps and a few people slapped me on the back and said well done and some people spontaneously applauded and for a couple of seconds heard the Rocky film soundtrack in my mind.

 

Then a few seconds later Tomas the gallery owner comes out on to the side walk fuming and walked over to me and says "don't you have any respect or any compassion"

 

I just ignored him and he said it again even louder and the crowd gathered around and people were watching and waiting for me to fight back and I felt like Rocky on the ropes and gathered up my strength and said "Where’s your respect and compassion, throwing me out like a leper on the street, how do you think I feel"

 

He says "Your not an artist, your not even human, you’re a fucking animal"

 

I said "I’m not a fucking animal, I’m a human being, what do you know about art, you don't even know when it smacks you right in the face"

 

He said, "That's not art that's violence"

 

I said, "What do you call washing peoples feet, like you do for your art work, who the fuck do you think you are Jesus Christ" 

 

Then Dan Asher shows up with a big water pistol and sprays Tomas in the face and says, "You fuck, you fuck"

 

Finally the cavalry had arrived, it was like watching the three stooges and it had become a sideshow carnival and I was the circus freak standing on the side walk like the Elephant man while Magda and Tomas were making an extravaganza and calling us animals and while lavishing in the controversy and attention enjoying the cafe and sipping on their club sodas and cheep white wine, bragging to their friends how they threw Erik and I out like animals into the street, while promoting their gallery and their other artists work by calling ours dog shit in comparison and that we are thugs and they were helpless victims of our vandalistic attack on our own scatter piece.

 

I thought funny how this all comes back to the original concept, what is art what isn't art and what role the dealer and curator plays in this and how I had just created an extreme example to illustrate this idea before every bodies eyes under the theme of the show "Ethical Cafe" 

 

I thought how funny, once again; my work goes over everyone’s head.