ART (Aethetically Rejected Thing): Victoria Artist-Run Culture

To Victoria by ferry, across the heaving, steel-colored Straight of Georgia, whipped by a fierce north wind, to catch Tolagson's show of photographs (2 pictures) at Nameless Artist-Run Centre.

JT: I'm a little worried; the curator's out of town, and the guy who's looking after the space hasn't called to say when I can install. Let's grab breakfast and see if he calls.

CJB: Sure!

[Tempus fugit]

JAMIE'S ANSWERING MACHINE LIGHT: [Not blinking]

JT: Hmm. Let's go distribute flyers around town.

[Tempus fugit]

JT: Maybe we should go back and see if the guy's called.

CJB: He hasn't; I guarantee it. Let's hit the bar!

CJB & JT: Dook, dook, dook!

CJB: Uh, Jamie? It's 5 now. Your show's when?

JT: At 7.

CJB: We'd better get going.

JT'S SWEETIE "V.": Were you guys at the bar?

PICKLED AND SURPRISED CJB & JT: How'd you tell?

V: [sighs, rolls eyes]

JT, CJB & V. collect JT's photos, carefully cradled in a tartan blanket, and walk twenty-five minutes in the winter cold to Nameless Artist-Run Center, where a scruffy hipster is guiltily and halfheartedly sweeping the place up with a broom. The "display wall" is not mudded, painted or sanded; nail heads protrude, like raisins in cake, through the uncovered drywall. A few huge gaping holes have been inexpertly and lumpily filled with plaster or Poly Filla, making the wall resemble a Lucio Fontana painting.

JT: I don't think we're gonna be installing tonight.

SCRUFFY HIPSTER: I guess. It's your choice, man. I mean, if you really want to be that way about it.

JT: [showing enormous restraint in not immediately beating SH to death] Maybe I could come back and install some other day.

SH: I guess. We've got other shows coming up! Maybe you could show after those other guys. I dunno, man. It's your choice.

V. & CJB IN CHORUS: C'mon. Let's go home!

JT: That was a truly awful outcome. I mean, I've been totally anticipating awful outcomes. Just not that one!
- posted by cjb @ 6:12 PM