Speaking in Gaelic, Print-G. and Irish discuss the deplorable situation of the field of art history in the dark staff cafe at the Met. They ignore the mafioso mayhem occurring throughout the museum above and focus on things of transcendent importance.
"My agent is a bitch," says Irish in proverbial Gaelic.
"Have some whiskey," replies Print-G in the same tongue.
"Thanks, I have my own flask." Irish checks her purse. "Wait, no I don't."
Print-G. pours for her.
"You killed 'em tonight, Mac," says Irish.
"But I didn't kill him. I've never carried a ninja star in my life."
"No, I meant you gave a great paper," says Irish. Curiously, the idiomatic confusion has registered in Gaelic.
"Thanks," says Print-G. "Do you think we should phone the police?"
"Nah," says Irish. She sips her whiskey. "Best not to get involved in this Dan Brown stuff."
"Do you have the money you owe me for creaming you at darts last week?" asks Print-G.
"I hate you," says Irish. She reaches into her purse.
"I constantly think it's funny that you've been chosen to save the world. And yet you intend to do it with a book about Apocalypse imagery. Doesn't make any sense, Irish!"
Without elaborating any further for our readers, Irish shrugs.
Then she says, "Mac, my wallet's gone."
---
The word mayhem fails to explain the Met tonight, as it is now dotted throughout with mobsters, dealers, thieves, thugs, assassins, and Fulbright scholars, all of questionable motives. Upon witnessing an assassination, they scurry around for their lives in the dark. M. O. Manhattan leads Art Guy through the heart of the medieval material, which is interestingly the most thinly occupied of all the wings, and they finally arrive at the Lehman Collection.
"We should be safe here," says Manhattan. After collecting herself, she adds, "I can't believe they killed Don Fabio."
"Wait, I'm a little confused about that," says our hero. "Why is the position called 'don'?"
"Wow, you're just as cynical in real life as you are in your blog," says Manhattan.
"Sorry," says our hero. He strolls around and checks out some top-notch Simone Martinis. It takes a while for his eyes to adjust to the dark.
"Do you think he was assassinated by the Tiepolos or the Dandolos or something?" says Art Guy.
"Mhm," says Manhattan, not really paying attention to him. She opens the Simone-Lippo Memmi diptych she has acquired from the fiddler and begins to set it up on a white table.
"Wait, weren't we going to return that to Christie's and say that it was purchased with dirty money?" says Art Guy.
"Who's side are you on?" says Manhattan. "Christie's has become wholly and thoroughly corrupt; it might as well be a sister branch to the black market art dungeon in Chinatown. Museums are the only place to keep these items to ensure that the public will see them."
"I hear JSTOR is uploading Christie's exhibition catalogs," says Art Guy. (note: this is true.)
"Haven't you read Ways of Seeing? Or would you rather look at all your art through a computer screen?"
Our hero feels like he's not helping the future of public art very much at the moment, so he turns away and says, "Alright, I'm going to go find Gus."
"You're not going anywhere."
Art Guy turns toward Manhattan. She has drawn an antique Siberian sword. A grin creeps across her face. "We've got work to do."
---
Gus can't find his way out of the Egypt wing. He hides behind a stela while large groups of mobsters stalk by. Whether they are searching out other mobsters, or Gus himself, or avoiding assassins, or pursuing some other malicious cause, it is hard to say. After a while the confusion has left the Egypt wing. Gus hears a faint, "Help! Let me out of this thing!"
'This thing' happens to be an ancient sarcophagus.
Gus considers whether it is wise to touch the sarcophagus, even though there seems to be a living person inside.
"You better not be undead," says Gus. With all his might and with slight awkwardness he slides the slab off the top of the sarcophagus and lets it settle against a glass showcase filled with precious turqouise. He is surprised to see the cab driver from earlier in the day, Dr. Vengeance Vellum, lying in the sarcophagus with ropes around his hands and feet.
"Quick," says Vengeance. "There's a hit on tonight. The Dandolos have plotted to kill someone who's high up in the Ziani family. We have to escape."
"I think that's already happened," says Gus. "Fabio Ziani was a mafioso?"
"Yes. It is the Ziani family who plot to take over the Met. They've been doing this for years; it's how I lost my job. I was in with the Dandolos."
"Wow, so there are three families? What about the Tiepolos?"
"They're also being hunted tonight. Untie me; we're best getting out of this place, and I'll explain at the nearest Chipotle."
Gus says, "I think I should probably find Mr. Guy and make sure he's alright first. He invited me to this conference after all."
"Forget him, he's probably already dead."
Gus is torn.
---
Darkness D'Orsay knows the safest place for her. She makes for the emergency stairs and uses her ultra dark vision to gain an edge. She walks up to the second floor, sits down on a step, and considers how her talk went that night.
'I knew I'd be grilled, but I conveyed my main points clearly, illustrated theory with concrete evidence, not bad, not bad...' she ponders.
"Hey Darkness, is that you?" says a voice from the stair below. It is the voice of Loose Cannon L.T. -S. P. S.
Darkness starts to move quietly up the stairs.
"Come on. I know it's you, I tracked you to the emergency steps. Your scholarship is top-of-the-line. You're really a force in the field." Loose Cannon begins to move up the stairs.
"I don't know if I can trust you; you don't believe art belongs to the public," says Darkness.
Loose Cannon laughs. "That's right," she says. "It all belongs to me eventually. But let's not get broken up over a little scholarly discourse, why don't you join me for some tea and buscuits?"
With that Darkness starts running. Loose Cannon engages in the chase.
---
A. Girl Assassin perches on top of an aluminum helicopter in the Met's newest exhibition: "Jeff Koons installs helicopters on the roof!" (disclaimer: this is a fictional exhibition with fictional artwork.)
She spots Darkness D'Orsay emerge from a rooftop doorway and dash to another pop-art helicopter, in which she hides.
A. Girl waits to see who the pursuer is. Shortly, Loose Cannon steps onto the roof.
"I know you're here, scholar." She strolls around looking at the helicopters. She secretly wonders if any of the helicopters are flight-worthy and if she can perhaps wrangle up a few of the other Koons helicopters with a chord and fly them out of here.
"Believe me I just want to talk," she continues. "I said it once and I'll say it again."
She suddenly pulls out her engraved crossbow and points it at A. Girl Assassin.
"Make a move and it's your last," she says. "I spotted you the moment I got up here."
Darkness makes a dash for another rooftop door. For one second Loose Cannon's eyes dart in that direction. In that moment one of A. Girl's ninja stars disarms Cannon. The crossbow falls to the ground and lets off an arrow, and a Jeff Koons helicopter on the other side of the roof deflates with an awkward sound.
Loose Cannon turns back toward the assassin as Darkness disappears back into the museum.
"You'll pay for that," says Loose Cannon.
"No art thief escapes my wrath," says A. Girl, who then drops a smoke bomb and disappears.
Loose Cannon picks up her crossbow and continues her chase of the Impressionist expert.
---
Hates Italy Dude (his friends just call him, 'Dude,') has now become a Tiepolo, and his best friend, Victoria 2.0, demolitions expert (Vic for short) is a Dandolo. Vic waits in the Temple of Dendur for an opportune moment.
H. I. Dude moves swiftly past the Temple with what looks like an ancient book in his hand.
"Dude!" says Vic.
"Vic? Where are you?"
Vic emerges from the temple. "What do those Tiepolos have you doing?"
"Stealing the Jaharis Manuscript. I don't know why those guys took me, I don't have much of a criminal C.V. except for forging and market hustling."
"I couldn't really turn down my job with the Dandolos," says Vic. "I mean it's a bad recession and we are art history MA's."
"Oh come on, that's a cliche," says Dude. "We're all affected by the recession."
"I don't know what I was thinking buying that Dickensian London map," says Vic.
"And me with that worthless Limoges tea set. We'll be okay as long as we can still be friends," he says.
"Let's go for a walk; there's something I want to show you," she says.
As they move stealthily through the museum, seeing groups of mobsters moving around slickly, and one ganger hidden in a corner putting up a 'shh' finger to his lips, Dude asks Vic, "What do they have you doing? I bet they hired you for your demolitions expertise. Are you going to blow up the Temple of Dendur?"
She laughs. "Not tonight, I'm afraid."
They arrive at a room filled with the arts of Oceania. Vic sits down in a canoe.
"Well, are you going to get in, landlubber?" she says.
He sits in the canoe facing toward Vic.
"I was hoping we could say a prayer," says Vic.
"Nononono!" says Dude standing back up. "How long have you known me for Victoria?"
"Sit down, I just want to say one 'Hail Mary.' You just sit down and pretend you're fishing with your uncle or something."
"Okay," says Dude. "But this is a little weird."
"Hail Mary, full of grace-"
"Wait," Dude interrupts.
Vic looks up with a sorrow Dude has never seen before in her.
"My friend, I know my Coppola," says Dude. "This is blatantly a scene from 'Godfather, Pt. II.'"
"I'm sorry," says Vic.
"Why would you kill me in a canoe from Oceania?" he says.
"I thought the movie reference would make it easier."
"We could have been contenders, Vic."
"Shut up, let's get out of here and quit the mafia."
---
"I told you steps 1 and 2, didn't I, Art Guy?" says Manhattan, throwing him one of the two kerosene jugs she is holding. "1. Rewrite the public definition of art through subsidizing and controlling the galleries. 2. Discredit the field of art history and the importance of knowledge. Now here's step 3. make the public art of museums less and less accessible, and then you have a convenient recession and before you can say step 4., the Met burns down and there's no one to see it re-established."
"You're just going to burn the museum though and not the art?" says Art Guy.
"Precisely. The Ziani keep the artwork. They already have a right to it, if we have one of our guys reign as 'don' of the collection. As benefactors' rooms get combined into wings, which in turn get telescoped into the intellectual property of one great job title: the 'don of ancient, classical, medieval, early modern, modern, and contemporary arts at the Met,' it should only take some paperwork and hypnotism for the Ziani to acquire the entire collection from all the patrons. That will move us forward on the ultimate privatization of the world's artwork. Today the Met, tomorrow the world."
"What about the art of the streets?" says Art Guy.
"Step 1! Street art is not considered art anymore. No one will care about street art, and they'll eventually give up. Every work of 'art' proper will slowly belong to the private sphere," she says.
"That undermines what you said earlier today about you wanting art to be in the public sphere."
Manhattan cackles. "I'll never stop reading your blog, Art Guy. You're funny."
"Thanks, but you're not going to get away with this," says Art Guy.
"Who's going to stop me, Monet with his socially acute Waterlillies?" she says. She slices open the vaseline tank with her sword and lets it spill all over the floor of the Lehman collection.
"Are we planning to light this up tonight?" says Art Guy.
"I'll give it a week," she says. "You'll get barbecued tonight though, you already know too much."
Art Guy stares at his vaseline can wondering where things went wrong today.
He looks up.
"Oh my God, it's a bunny," he says.
A giant Jeff Koons bunny crashes to the floor of the Lehman Collection rotunda in a flurry of broken glass. Manhattan is trapped under its neck.
A. G. Assassin slides off the top of the bunny, and says to Art Guy, "There are thieves around. Where's the nearest curator?"
Manhattan slices her way out of the Koons aluminum bunny with her saber. Weapon drawn she says to the assassin, "You seek assistance?"
"I have a file on you, Manhattan," says the assassin. The ninja/sword fight that ensues is one of myths. It moves from the rotunda through the medieval section and eventually into the new Roman wing. Imagine really hard, like if a Mars statue was fighting an Athena statue or some such, only with Siberian sabers and ninja stars as well, that's the type of fight that goes on. Art Guy would recount it in detail, but as you can see it's been a long day. The next thing he remembers is that they are dodging around a rather erotic Hercules, the assassin licking her lips to distract Manhattan, when suddenly-
"Stop all the violence!" Loose Cannon pleas from a neoclassical catwalk. She points her crossbow at the fighters, and they stop. Art Guy tries to blend in with a line of heroes of the Republic.
"Give me the badge," says Loose Cannon, approaching M. O. Manhattan. Manhattan surrenders her curator badge.
"This isn't a hereditary art state - as a matter of fact it's all mine. I happen to have the Dandolo and Tiepolo at my fingertips. I know all about your ambitions and they are inspirational to say the least. But you've all lost. Museums have lost. Scholarship has lost, it's over now. The Met is being dissolved tonight I'm afraid."
But she has a moment of weakness as a ghostly violin melody sweeps through the museum.
---
Art Guy runs into Gus and Vengeance Vellum in the foyer as they too head for the exit.
"Gus! I've been trying to find you all day!"
"I'm sorry I was leaving, Mr. Guy! I thought you'd been killed."
"Wait up a second you two," says Vengeance. He runs up to the body of Fabio Ziani and snatches his 'don' badge.
"I'll change the title, but it's nice to have some security you know?"
As they prepare to exit, they hear the violin melody.
---
Vic and Guy are retreaving their original coats on the ground floor when the melody comes to them as well.
"Shall we check out the concert, Guy?" says Vic.
Guy says, "Yes, let's. But first let's play a game."
He pulls out two identical manuscripts. "Pick a Jaharis, any Jaharis."
Vic points to the one on the right.
"Good. That one's my forgery," says Guy. "We'll return it on our way back through the museum."
---
Darkness D'Orsay, who has hidden out in a staff computer lab and has been quietly revising her essay, clicks 'Save' and enters the museum to the sound of sweet violin.
---
"She stole my wallet," says Irish to Print G. as they enter the room that the music is coming from. Indeed the fiddler from 5th avenue stands in one corner with her instrument, next to a Hendrick Sorgh print, Man Playing a Violin. Everyone in the Met, except unfortunate Fabio Ziani, congregates in the room and forms a circle around her. Manhattan, Assassin, and Loose Cannon are the last to arrive. They stand mesmorized among each other.
"I don't care how good it is, I'm still getting my wallet back," whispers Irish.
As the violinist finishes she holds Irish's wallet up in the air.
No one moves forward.
"Call a spade a spade," says Irish. "That's my wallet." Irish approaches her, retrieves the wallet, and re-enters the circle.
The crowd is silent. The fiddler bows, and makes a quick exit stage left.
Then the audience bursts into applause.
"Gus," says Art Guy. "Let's get out of here and watch some Sister Wendy."
-------
by Joe Williams
No comments:
Post a Comment