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Hey guys, here's the final segment of Jeff and my 'museum.' Jeff designed the concepts and I executed them in soppy satirical prose. So, I hope you guys enjoyed the whole trip through the virtual museum. Up next...LAB!

8.

Alright, my wonderful guests of this wonderful tour, we are arriving at the end! And endings are such fine, sweet things, aren’t they? Yes. Well, just this way. Yes, right around the corner. Ah, yes, here we are: the final display.

Well, it’s a video, but before we actually go in to view it, I’d like to break protocol and say a few things.

First off: the artist responsible for this – how should I say: evidence? – we’re about to witness is Jeffrey James Wilde. He is what some would call a provocateur, but not in any traditional sense of the word. He does not discover grand statements between the periods of a woman’s menstrual period or write words in bat shit. No, his modus operandi – if you will – is more the lack of any activity to bring provocation. Last summer – even – he removed the heads from celebrities in movies and showed them in a marathon in Chicago. And two years before that, he raced around in a car and recorded himself singing loudly over popular road songs. He called that piece “White Fuzz.” And my particular favorite, I think: JJ Wilde once hung a blank, four hundred foot long banner down the side of the Empire State Building for three months. People often said it was like seeing into the bones of the building, but – oh Jeffrey – he just waved away the notion. “It’s all about nothing,” – yes – that’s what he can always be counted on to say.

Second, I suppose then: the piece we are about to view. As I said before, it is a video, but a rather peculiar one at that. It does not depict an actual execution of a work, but instead shows the total meltdown of an idea Jeffrey tried to share – and forcibly so. You see, his idea was to remove all art from the museum for a month and have the vacancy be his exhibit. But – as you’ll soon witness – the Board Members of the Boho Coco Museum were none to pleased with this venture. There were the usual problems of storage, cost, movement, handling – all the boring parts of museum life, really. But JJ Wilde just didn’t want to take no for an answer. And before I give too much away, let me wave you onward. Go. Go and be brave; take a look. See the wild life of art on the brink.

The room is empty except for a large flat screen television across the way.

The video is in mid-duration. A man – JJ Wilde perhaps – is seen in black

blazer and beard and sun glasses, and is punching the curator Grace Madero

in the mouth. She buckles and collapses onto the marble floor of the Boho

Coco atrium. Other men in black pants rush the scene and tackle the violent

aggressor. Although there is no sound, he can be scene screaming and flailing.

In the distance, nicely dressed persons watch in disbelief and keep their distance.

Patrons of the museum calmly pass the disturbance, almost as if they had

expected it, and pay it little heed. Grace Madero rises from the marble, gathers

her bearings, then in a childish fit of revenge, pounces on the violent man and

begins to jab him in the face. The black panted men who had tackled the

aggressive man now turn their attention to Grace and pull her away. She

screams too. Her legs flail too. This is not behavior fitting a museum curator.

The video cuts and loops back to the beginning. The violent man is composed

now, stood opposite Grace. They shake hands and giggle. The nicely dressed

persons are near the too. They shake hands. Then something is said. The

bearded man pauses and stares away. He throws his arms in the air and shoves

an older, fine dressed gentleman. Black panted men come from nowhere and

stand on the outskirts of the scene. Grace says something to the violent man

and then he punches her in the mouth.

I know: quite wild, isn’t it? I swear, there was never any inclination that things would scale to such violence. I can say: I for one am not a very violent person. So what happened, I don’t know; it all seems very ridiculous. But there that goes a lamb goes a lion – or something; I think that’s an expression. Anyhow – I must say – I just think that video is a darling. It’s pure JJ Wilde: he wants one thing, but gets another. The funny part of the story is, for the rights and agreement to play the video, we told Mr. Wilde that we would not press charges. He loved the idea. Actually, once a year – just for fun – Wilde returns to the museum to reenact the scene with people dressed in gaudy costumes. He likes to consider himself the string-puller, I assure you. Ahh…maybe there is violence in us all. I think – yes – I do believe such is true.

Well, fine guests, I quite thank you for joining me on the special VIP tour of the Boho Coco Art Museum’s fine collection. I hope you did enjoy yourselves. And if there is anything to take away, I hope it is such that you realize the preciousness of all art, of all moments even. I wish the whole world was a museum, sometimes. I think it not fair that we only have these many walls to hang the mighty efforts of troubadours and forlorn dreamers. I think, however, that you too may have walls, wherever they may be. If I might be so bold – and I do try to stay away from being tacky – let me tell you: hang that which you deem to be true and dear to your heart on those walls. If this be metaphor, then so be it. I prefer to call it reality, however. It’s a simple view – I know – of reality, but with all this war and catastrophe and what-not, let us be simple. Let us be grand and indulgent. Let us – as some famous artist must have said somewhere – “be whatever.” Ahh…that is my tour. Fin. Done. Finito. It – really, I just can’t seem to stop myself – was a pleasure, I assure you. But now I must bid you all adieu. Fare thee well, live well, be well. I’m Grace Madero. Thanks. Ta.