A Techno-nightmare on Eastern Pkwy, Pt. 1

Our hero and his faithful comrade Gus are meeting for coffee in Brooklyn.

"The mason marks tell volumes," says Art Guy. "What is the relationship between mason and capomaestro, what's the lingua franca, is the east end sanctuary given priority over the crossing and western parts?"

"I can't remember," says Gus, playing around on his iPhone.

"Well naturally we don't know yet, but it raises these interesting questions, and others. The Arab influence on the support structure, the muquarna crossing vaults."

"Crossing vaults," says Gus, still preoccupied with his phone.

"Are you listening to me?" says Art Guy.

"Oh, sorry Mr. Guy, I'll be right with you," says Gus. His concentration focuses as he changes the phone's orientation in the air and begins typing at the screen.

"Take your time," says Art Guy, assuming that Gus is dealing with a pressing emergency.

Gus bursts out laughing.

"Gus, are you speaking with someone on that thing?"

"Tweeting actually."

"Can't you do that later? I was hoping we could discuss upcoming research."

Gus puts down his phone. "But this twitter is more interesting than you."

"I'm sorry?" says Art Guy.

"You had my attention at first, Mr. Guy, but then you started droning on and on. Then i got this tweet, and in the competition for my attention, the twitter won."

Art Guy doesn't understand. "Whatever," he says, "but put it away. It's rude to talk on the phone in the company of someone else."

"It was rude," says Gus, "8 months ago. Now it's a model. Wired and wireless communication compose a presence as real as physical occupation."

"I don't remember voting for that," says Art Guy, not being sarcastic but genuinely believing this was something you might vote on. "What is this twitter about anyway?"

"It's about Romanesque architecture," says Gus.

"I'm talking about Romanesque architecture!" says Mr. Guy. "What could the twitter possibly be saying that is more interesting than muqarnas?"

Gus seems intrigued.

"Let's put it to a contest," he says. "My tweet says 'Conques example of barrel vaults.' What would you say to compete for my attention?"

Art Guy sits back and reflects. Everyone knows about the Romanesque and barrel vaults. But what about the exceptions? What about the use of Burgundian pointed arches?

Our hero says, "As far as the Norman Romanesque is concerned, the Burgundian arch has its most exotic adaptations in the Greco-Arab inhabited region of Sici-"

"That's 140 characters," Gus interrupts. "I didn't know what to make of that. Very long-winded, and what's Sici?"

"You didn't let me finish!" says Art Guy.

"The twitter took 33 characters to tell me something. You took 140 characters to tell me nothing."

"You know what your problem is, Gus? All this new technology is reducing your attention span. You're just like those curators at the Tate with their 'less is more' exhibition."

"Which exhibition?" says Gus.

"Remember? From my blog a couple years ago? You were there."

"Oh," says Gus. "I didn't know you were still updating that. You need to include some advertising, track some twitter accounts, embed some apps, a few flickr links, and some flash media graphics."

"I feel like a dinosaur," says Art Guy.

Gus laughs again.

"What's so funny?" says Art Guy.

"It keeps linking me to 'lemmings with stone masons.' If you're not careful, they fall off the scaffolding."

"Alright, call me," says Art Guy, getting up, "or text me, or whatever it is one does, when you want to discuss our next assignment."

Suddenly Gus's phone starts playing a hip-hop alert.

"Thats my art museum update app," says Gus. "Hold on, Mr. Guy."

Gus is alarmed by what he reads.

"It looks like we have a case. A robbery. At the Brooklyn Museum."

"What was stolen?" says Art Guy.

"The Egyptian collection."

"Impossible."

Gus looks up. "It was a digital robbery."

(to be continued...)

'Barbarians'

"Mr. Guy, wake up," says Gus.

Art Guy and Gus are on an overnight train through Germany and Austria. The point of this trip is twofold: one, for Art Guy to do some research on Strasbourg Cathedral; and two, for Gus to give a presentation in Vienna. They have just come from Strasbourg and will arrive in Vienna early this morning.

"Wake up, Mr. Guy," Gus says again. He sits below his bunk, wide-eyed, eyes fixed on his laptop screen. It is 5 in the morning, and Gus's presentation is not yet finished.

Art Guy rolls over in his bunk. "Yeah? What is it? Why is it so cold in this train car?" says our hero.

"I don't know," says Gus. "I need your help."

"If you're not sleeping, could I use your blanket?" says Art Guy.

Gus isn't listening. "I don't know what word to use for the," he pauses. "...I don't know what word to use."

"What's the word?" says Art Guy.

"I don't know!" says Gus.

"What does it sound like?" says Art Guy.

"Theodorik, destruction of antiquities," says Gus.

"Those two things have nothing whatsoever to do with each other," says Art Guy. "Theodorik outlawed the destruction of antiquities."

"No, but the whole movement. You know. The Vandals, the Goths. The overthrow of Rome!" says Gus, despairing as if it has happened yesterday.

"The 'barbarians,'" says Art Guy, yawning. He puts up air quotes.

"Barbarians," says Gus, eyes fixed on the screen. "If you say so." He types it.

"Not barbarians," says Art Guy. " 'Barbarians.' Look at me." He puts up air quotes again.

Gus looks up at Art Guy. "Barbarians in quotes? Why?"

"Because barbarians is wrong; they're civilized races," says Art Guy. "You need quotes."

"But the GESTA style guide says you're not allowed to use rhetorical quotes like that. And besides, I'm giving a presentation. I'm not going to stand up in front of a bunch of Austrian and German art historians, putting up air quotes."

"How do you think Germany and Austria would feel about an unqualified phrase that goes, 'Barbarians swept down from the north?'"

"I don't know," says Gus. "Probably not good about it. But air quotes are stupid."

"Just an idea," says Art Guy, turning back over and trying to go back to sleep.

He tosses and turns for half an hour, before finally sitting up.

"I can't sleep," says Art Guy. "You're right. It is stupid. Why do we use air quotes? If barbarians doesn't suffice, why can't we replace it with something else?"

Gus stares at his screen. " 'The quote barbarian end quote tribes from Northern Europe and the East, having penetrated the limits of the Empire, turned towards its nucleus,'" he dictates.

"Are you going to say 'quote...end quote' or use air quotes?"

"I don't know," says Gus. "I might just jump under the train. Twenty minutes at least gives me time to do that."

A stewardess knocks at the door.

"Gutenmorgen," she says. "Wien ist nahe."

She distributes elegant pastries and coffees to the passengers. No sooner has she left is Gus finished with both items.

"Calm down," says Art Guy. "You're fine. You just have to be specific. Say what groups you mean."

"I can't remember them all," says Gus.

"Neither can I," says Art Guy.

---

Gus stands in the magnificent Palais Eschenbach explaining to a full house his recent findings on Roman fortifications.

"Beginning in the third century," he says, "the limes were broken by invaders. Then, the, quote-" he pauses and raises hooked fingers in the air. "Barbarian-" he says, curling his fingers up and down, "end quote, tribes, from Northern Europe and the East, having penetrated the limits of the Empire, turned towards its nucleus.'

Voices in the crowd begin to murmur. Gus looks up from the podium, still with the same wide-eyed, sleepless look he had earlier that morning.

"But they're actually quite civilized!" he says, diverting from his presentation. "And we shouldn't go about calling them barbarians, quotes or not."

If Gus is not in Vienna, but rather Kalamazoo, MI, the audience laughs, and it is understood that everyone in attendance has reached a new level of comfort with each other. But Gus is in Vienna, and his outburst echoes in the coffered ceiling and falls upon a silent audience.

"Tough crowd," says Gus. More silence. He searches for the line in his presentation where he diverted. "Rome had one defense, the Aurelian Walls, rebuilt in two different campaigns."

---

Our hero and his trusty, yet deflated, ally stand in the nave of Vienna Cathedral, bathed in a rainbow of stained glass reflections. They are both enebriated from the reception banquet.

"Hideous," says Art Guy, looking around the church. "Just barbaric. A slap in Marcus Aurelius's face."

"Pointed arches," says Gus. "That's just wrong."

"This after a barbarian banquet," says Art Guy.

"Not classical," says Gus, raising his voice. "Schnitzel. Not classical at all."

A cleric shoots them an icy look.

Gus sits down in a chair and starts flipping through the liturgy. "German, I can't read German. I'll bet Attila the Hun reads German."

"Since it's so Romantic sounding," says Art Guy, "he seduced Aquileia to death."

"Joke all you want, I think German sounds great," says Gus. "I want my GPS to speak German."

"I wonder if there's an Attila the Hun setting," says Art Guy. "Turn left, but leave no hilltop city unraided."

"Ah, good. This is good. I feel better now."

"I don't," says Art Guy, changing into a sober humor. "What do you do with the confusion about barbarians? It's like Varari's 'Gothic.' We're still stuck with that one, and look at what a joke it is."

"'Impressionist' was meant to be condemnatory but now it's iconic," says Gus. "The Fauves too."

"So we call them barbarians, and that's iconic?" says Art Guy. "I don't know."

"It reminds me of this time I went to Ravenna," says Gus.

"Yeah, Theodorik and all that," says Art Guy.

"No," says Gus. "This time in Ravenna I got mugged."

"You got mugged?" says Art Guy.

"I had on me all these little gifts from a giftmarket," says Gus, "little trinkets and stuff, and this band of guys came up from behind me and took my little bag of trinkets."

"That's terrible," says Art Guy.

"I said, hey 'that's mine!' So they came up to me all threatening and said, 'What do you have in here?' And I couldn't really remember."

"Uh-huh," says Art Guy.

"So they said, 'If you don't know what you have, how can it be yours?'"

Art Guy and Gus sit silently. The stained glass reflections have begun to shift.

"Well I've got to get going," says our hero, "I want to make it to the Nationalbibliothek before they close."

"They might not let you in if you're drunk," says Gus.

"They can try and stop me."