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  ...presents...                  My Night Out

                                                         by Obscure Images

                                                         06/01/1996-#313



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     The show was opening at a new gallery in town.  I don't recall what it was

called, but I'm almost positive that it was something really industrial and

menacing.  Regardless, I was exhilarated that some of my work was going to be

in the show and a little nervous about the reaction it'd get.  Fortunately it

was a group show, so there was a built in safety valve.  If my stuff wasn't the

best, it was still probably better than someone else's.



     When I arrived, I was surprised to see the number of people that had

gathered.  I was excited about it until I remembered that it was the opening

night, which always means free food and liquor.  I have heard stories of people

who live in larger areas that survive solely on food from openings.  If the art

thing doesn't pan out I think I might move somewhere else and give it a shot.

The gallery was dimly lit, except for spot lighting on the actual pieces of

art.  The music was a generic ambient soundtrack, turned up loud enough to

notice, but not so much as to prevent conversation.  As I walked through the

entry way I felt a wave of pretension wash over me.  I grinned, thinking this

was the way the game was played.



     My first piece in the show was a canvas I had painted a flat white, except

for a bright cobalt blue dot in the middle.  Also, in fine lettering along the

bottom edge were the words, "Don't stand here too long."  I quickly walked

past, even though I knew that I didn't have the mechanism wired up.  I stood

not too far off to watch the people file past it, picking up snippets of their

conversation.  Checking to see if anyone would stand there too long.



     "...quite frankly, I feel that this piece is somewhat standard.  You know

that this has already been done many other times, and the command on the bottom

is ludicrous.  Wth a work like this you wouldn't want to stand here at all,"

said an older man, dressed in black with his wife, also in black.



     I chuckled to myself, as they had been there too long.  If the mechanism

was hooked up, they would have both been dead.  Incidentally, the name I gave

the piece was "Bug Zapper."  It was good to know that it worked.



     I talked to some people for a while and played my part as the artist.  I

had to give rather lengthy explanations of some of my work to people who looked

as if they might be interested in purchasing it.  The "Bug Zapper" was really

the only conceptual work I put in the show.  The rest of it was more

representational.



     After talking to several perspectives, I went to play with another piece

that a friend of mine made.  It was a giant life-sized version of Rock'em

Sock'em Robots, complete with controls that people could use.  This would have

been a really cool toy, but the part that made it an artistic statement, at

least according to my friend, was exceptional.  When a player loses and the

head pops up, the robot turns around and bends over, exposing its ass to the

victor.  Along with its amusement value, it is a commentary on how little

progress there has been in power relations.  Dominant male primates will often

demand submission from the other males in the tribe.  This submission is

expressed by bending over and presenting himself.  My friend says that it would

explain a lot about masculine distaste of homosexuality at some primal level.

Could be.



     Remember the puppet made out of beads & string on a plastic base?  You

made it move by pushing the circle in the base up and down.  You pushed, which

loosened the string and made the puppet limp.  If you messed around with it

long enough you could do some pretty cool puppetry.  Anyway, that's what my

piece was, a full sized version of one of those toys.  I made it out of PVC

pipe and some nylon rope.  Cheap and easy, especially since I just made a

skeleton.  I was going to go political with it but I thought that might come

off a bit trite.  People seemed to be enjoying it.  It was raised up off the

floor with enough space to lay underneath and push the disc in the base to make

it move.  I had it priced pretty cheap, as I didn't have anywhere to put it at

my place, so I wanted someone to buy it.



     Most of the people remained for the performance art.  In a spirit of

kindness, I will keep the artists name out of this story, because I'm not sure

she is as proud of the work as she was when she performed it.  Fortunately for

those of us in the audience, she was attractive.  She still is, more or less.

Anyhow, she came out onto the stage and started ranting, occasionally ripping

or slashing at an article of her clothing.  Quite frankly (I'm sounding like my

pretentious couple now), the rant was uninspired, her shtick was weak.  At best

it could be called a Lydia Lunch/Karen Finley thing.  At worst it was the

feeble warblings of someone with a few too many womens' studies courses in her.

Things did get interesting when she brought out a large wax dildo and bent over

in front of the audience, lighting one end and shoving it up into herself.  I

might add for clarity that the lit end was not the end inserted.  She furiously

masturbated herself with this flaming dildo while screaming at the top of her

lungs about getting fucked by men, getting fucked by institutions, getting

fucked in just about every way conceivable.  Then as quickly as she worked

herself into the frenzy, she relaxed and became quiet.  The crowd was silent,

waiting to see if it was over when an expression of horror flashed across her

face which was followed by the enormous roar of massive flatulence, which

caused the small flame at the end of the candle/dildo to flare up and out

toward the audience.  It was all I could do to not fall over laughing as she

removed the dildo and walked off the stage.  I was absolutely flabbergasted at

the audience's reaction.  They clapped, and later I heard members of the

audience talking about how clever she was.  I had my doubts, and as I told her

some time after this, she managed to take radical feminism and drag it down

into male high-school locker room humor.  I also added that at least it was a

step in the right direction.  She hit me pretty hard.  That's another story

altogether.



     Closing time grew near so I decided to make my way to the exit.  On the

way I talked to the gallery owner, who informed me that several of my pieces

had sold, and he had some people interested in one or two others.  As soon as I

cleared the doors, I began to laugh.  I laughed all the way to my car, and then

all the way home.  When I think about the event I still chuckle.  Oh yeah, I

took apart the bug zapper painting. I decided that if people were actually

going to pay for my work it'd be best not to kill them with it.

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