Hey guys, here's the next part of Jeff and my collaborative writing effort, 'Museum.' Holy cow, Jeff picked some awesome material for me to base this piece on. Let's just say, don't read this if you're about to get into a wicked game of one-on-one self-pleasure. Ohhhhhh!
Okay folks, our next piece is rather graphic, and I must say at this time all those who do not wish to view explicit sexual acts need leave. Don’t fret, I will come and notify you once this part of the tour is over. Thank you.
Alright, for those remaining, follow me. I have to admit, I’m impressed by how many of you chose to stay and view the next exhibit with me. What you’re about to see has gotten our
In a small room without windows, four projectors shine upon the walls.
They display moving images of elderly men and women performing
fellatio upon strange penises. The sounds of old clips of C-Span echo off
the walls. And although the room is very small, its ceiling appears to
stretch on forever. And though the elderly sexed people are spry, they
have wrinkles and they have blemishes. And although the penises pictured
are long and stiff, they are discolored and are un-profound. The voices of
senators and representatives haunt the establishment.
So, folks, how was the moment alone? Do you feel offended? You know, truthfully, I suppose this piece does offend me. It’s my least favorite in the entire museum. It seems cheap and obvious to me, but, as a good curator, I am above opinions and preferences when giving a tour. I can simply say that their acts of oral pleasure leaves me could. I think it could have been beautiful, but… Ahem! Excuse me; forgive me my tangent. I believe it obvious that the artist is seeking to assault the viewer, but perhaps you’ve all seen differently than I. And if you have – bravo – I commend you. I, however, cannot stomach this piece for much longer. Please step out with me now and I will explain more.
Okay: the artist who made the work was named Reginal Vlance. He was a contradiction of sorts. Vlance was known to be a provocateur, but he was also notoriously shy of the limelight. He considered himself a failure, but to attest to his prowess, he dubbed himself the “Senator of Sex.” So years went by and art was made, but his particular piece was not conceived until the timely passing of Vlance’s maternal grandmother. He decided that it would be appropriate – no, necessary – to pay the woman tribute. First he experimented with pictures of her nude body. The inactivity inherent in her frame startled him. Next, he composed statues of her form and dropped them from heights and blew them apart with dynamite, recording the process. But this too disconcerted Vlance. He felt pressed to forge onward. Then Vlance chanced upon a soundbite from a local politician. The man claimed to be a champion of the elderly, that he would grant them a voice in the body politic. This – Vlance decided – was exactly what he needed to do. To provide the elderly with motion, with movement, to animate them – if not for his dearly departed grandmother – then as tribute for the entire society of the aged. Vlance then took his sobriquet literally and filmed those four short pieces you just witnessed. Now, of course, you might say: “How does that exemplify honor and cherishment?”; “How is that tribute?”; “His own grandmother?” Well, folks, you’ll have to search me there. I find the whole affair in poor taste, but perhaps that’s what the artist had in mind. Perhaps that is all he had in mind. Perhaps he saw something sweet and beautiful in the fellations of the elderly pictured. Perhaps he simply wanted to arouse interest in the plight of the old and the feeble, to illustrate their remaining primacy, and to explore the dynamic of political exploitation of those who desperately need a voice. The elderly are to be respected – above all. They are to be watched and admired and listened to. Travesty in the room behind us you might say, but triumph for others. If you do not agree, simply wipe the slate of your mind clean. But I warn you, such things – ever in the realm of art – yet prove to be near impossible. Difficult for certain. Dangerous perhaps. It is true: the images haunt me; they will haunt me still.
Okay! Let’s go retrieve our other tour members and proceed on to the next exhibit. Follow me