Untitled Short Story
O my %&/%)=! God! How he
screamed! Even though the time just struck 4 AM, a little
homeless boy without iPhone or museum card (for only €98927.45 up
to 24 years of age you can own your own museum card
to enter more than 400 museums/galleries in
Amsterdam), was walking in the streets outside the manʼs apartment. As the
little boy walked by the manʼs bedroom, he heard an uncontrolled orchestra of
thundering roars, sounding exactly like a nuclear deformed hyena dying from an
ecstasy overdose. The young boy instantly twisted his neck in a 1080-degree
perfect circle, and allowed his curious eyes to pop out of his head, in order to
peek through the manʼs window. Blood streaming like an ocean during a great
storm, blasted itsʼ way through the windows, creating a pool of blood and oil paint
around the boyʼs feet. The man was suffering from Temporal Lobe
Epilepsy, Bipolar disorder, Thujone poisoning, Lead
poisoning, Hypergraphia, and Sunstroke, and if that wasnʼt enough,
the man still hadnʼt sold one painting. The blood was catapulting out from a big
whole were his right ear once was attached, as he hysterically skated around in
900 blood-covered paintings, while violins were playing melodramatic tunes in
the background. In a split second, the boy forgot about his own hunger and the
fact that he now had to sleep in ear-juice smeared clothes, burst into tears for this
holy geniusʼ faith, and for the lack of the societyʼs recognition for the manʼs
mastermind.
The paintings in the main room was painte…
I don’t like to read SO long paragraphs, it could have been sorted out in tags, but what a
poor guy eh’! Don’t you think so Lisa? OHGGgd Yhduses (translation: O yes) Lisa
replied with her entire mouth stuffed with Fitty Snacks (With Fitty Snacks
you can and will loose up to 57 pounds instantly per bite), whereas she folded the museum brochure back together. Lisa moved to
one of the first paintings in the museum, and even though her eyes pointed in the
direction of a tall man looking down at the ground, she was happy that she paid the
500999€ entrance fee (they got group discount). Casper was a new employee at the
museum, and he had to raise his voice quite a lot for everyone in the group to hear him.
PEOPLE!!! THIS IS ALL VERY NICE, BUT AFTERWARDS WE CAN TAKE A
LOOK AROUND IN THE GIFT SHOP:) WE NOW ALSO SELL SMALL COFFEE
CUPS WITH CUTE EAR PRINTS ON THEM. Terrance, do you think we will be back
at the hotel before the sun goes down? I certainly hope the radioactive dinosaurs won’t
attack us again, like they did last night IMGO! SO THIS PAINTING HERE IS CALLED
THE POTATOE EATERS AND IT’S PAINTED WITH OIL PAINT… wow Casper
certainly has a great knowledge about art! Maybe I will subscribe to his thoughts via
Brainstalker? But then again I subscribe to too many brains these days, I can’t think
straight (sad smiley). Oh my god Terrance! Don’t brain-subscribe to intellectuals, they
think way too much! Plus you will most likely get boring university spam! AND THIS
PAINTING WE HAVE RIGHT HERE IS CALLED STARRY NIG... A rumbling noise
interrupted Casper’s sentence, as twenty-five men wearing black suits, screamed their
way through the museum like a fuming pack of wild lions on steroids. One of the men,
carrying a belting leather briefcase in one hand, crawled his way up an old crippled
woman who just entered the museum, and screamed through a megaphone while
mountains of cash flew out from his briefcase: THIS IS A MESSAGE TO OUR
EMPLOYEES, YOU ARE ALL FUCKING FIRED! Smoke bombs fired
through the great windows of the museum, as a swarm of sweaty yet tanned and good
looking, pure muscled male hunks of meat, rappelled their way down the building and
swung through the holes in the windows. A rather catchy techno remix of the Gladiator
soundtrack was playing from monstrous speakers, in the mean time as the newly arrived
sexy men, used their jetpacks to fly around to each visitor, while handing out consolatory
baskets (including wine, fruits and a card saying, “Sorry for the interruption, do continue
your museum trip”).
Hey! What the hell are you looking at? Pay attention to this add or you may waste your
entire life, by working at a supermarket like a boring normal person. Do you feel
differentiated from society, perhaps as a great thinker rather than a Goth or an Amish?
We now offer you a chance to rip your buttoned shirt right open, in order for you to reveal
your glorified inner artistic soul. Become a student at our art academy and learn how
objects relate to space, and other attention-grabbing business opportunities...
Simon Fredolski… wait, that’s a rubbish name for the main character of this story. Alfred
Carlson… OMFG, that also doesn’t work! AIIJ, it’s so hard to be creative with the
diminutive government money I receive for doing my studies! If god really exists, I
would at least get paid 109809 times more for my creative skills as a contemporary artist.
I have a rent to pay for fuck sake! What don’t you get about that?
Alfred Johnson (a decision has been made by the board, concluding that Alfred Johnson
is a magnificent name to use for our main character) was at the academy quite early that
day, so he decided to take a look around the school, in hope of experiencing the artistic
atmosphere. The school mainly consisted of bricks, cement, and glass, obviously some of
the materials you normally build a building out of, however, Alfred once overheard a
conversation in a bussix1 between two splendid men, contemplating upon an art academy
being more than just a building, essentially existing as a trampoline for thoughts to jump
into our planet’s universal playground. Alfred did not know what that meant, but he did
notice students gathering around conceptual tables (not an actual table, but rather the idea
of it being present) saying things such as “interesting”, “materials”, “but is it art”,
“crucial” and “that’s a fruitful thought”. Alfred liked the word interesting, and found it
1 A futuristic slang for bus.
“interesting” that they used that exact word to a great extend, like a bunch of damaged
retro vinyl players, stuck in one spiral groove for all eternity. Alfred often took use of that
word in situations were he was to give an opinion about any given subject; he had no or
little knowledge about. A group of students were chilling and relaxing outside of
school, when a couple of guys who were up to no good, started making
trouble in my… For fuck sake! That was the beginning of the “Fresh Prince in Bell
Air” intro song; I hate these advertisements, spamming their way into my brain!
As an attempt to blend in with the environment, Alfred placed himself next to a group of
students. A younger man in the group, who would appear as your average intellectual,
seems to be the person leading the conversation. The young man takes a fleeting look
directed at the sky, redirects his view back into the eyes of his classmates and says, AAhh
I’m so special, yet I am wasting my freaking time hanging out with you idiots. A chubby
girl standing close to the young man, replies to the classmate, The only thing you seem to
do is point your finger at everyone and everything, you are such a child. The young man
starts screaming as a response to the classmate’s words, breaks down to the ground like
Michael Jackson breaks down in the music video to his song “Earth Song”, you know…
the music video in some kind of horrible paranoia desert, with a lot of dust everywhere
and some elephants. AHHHH I HATE ART, The young man howled like a terrified owl,
savagely bitten by chipmunks. As the young man repeats to scrape his entire body around
in perfect circles on the concrete grown, the embarrassed group of classmates slowly
dissolves, and the chubby girl encourages the younger man, not to have such a Luca Van
Der Woodsen 2 attitude towards life.
2 At the time this short story takes place, Luca Van Der Woodsen is a well known artist,
usually viewed upon either, as a great intellectual with radical opinions about art, plus
good looks, or as a pessimistic, self-centred arrogant piece of shit.
To sum it all up, Luca Van Der Woodsen has been discussed to a GREAT extent. This is
what the two well respected modern art critics, John Lawman and Hans Kappelhoff, said
about the subject at the recent art conference, “The Future of Art” in 2011.
Throughout a great deal of his works, Luca Van Der Woodsen seems to capture different
aspects of the fields of art, not to mention the society around it, and to a somewhat manic
state blast a spotlight on the sad tendencies within. Mr. Woodsen (also known as Wutzen)
manage to create a comical warning sign against how we present and deal with art, which
in most cases have degenerated into one big shallow business deal. It’s a redneck
mentality of a parody crashing into “what we end up with if we aren’t aware, and a demo
of a world gone terribly wrong”. As Sylvére Lotringer states in the introduction to Jean
Baudrillard’s book “The Conspiracy of Art”, “Never has art been more successful than it
is today-but is it still art? Like material goods, art is endlessly recycling itself to meet the
demands of the market”… This statement does not only refer to how and for what
reasons we create art, but how art (art academies, art history, museums) is manipulating
its way into a meaningless money-flow, which can’t be distinguished from anything else
in modern pop culture. Woodsen never comes up with an alternative to the situation
heading towards nonsense, he rather observes and pukes out more superficial material,
however in this case it’s in a more obvious manner. It results in a joke within a joke, yet
most people aren’t aware of the joke in the presentation of art in the first place, they just
follow the flow to “fit in”.
It has to be mentioned that Mr. Woodsen at times allows himself to psychotically fly into
such extreme dimensions, that the criticism disappears quite a bit, but maybe that’s Luca
Van Der Woodsen’s way of dealing with things. Woodsen’s “Untitled Short Story” is as
we know written in the future, and transported back to spectators via a hi-fi time
travelling teleport. It’s quite difficult to know if Van Der Woodsen, in all reality is
creating a parody, considering the fact that we don’t have that much knowledge about the
future, however, parody or no parody, something appears to have gone wrong…
If the wrong tendencies is a minus, and Luca Van Der Woodsen and his self irony is a
minus, we get plus…
-John Lawman 2011
Reading Luca Van Der Woodsen’s “Untitled Short Story”, one might come across the
possibility that Woodsen serves an artichoke, though, as you peel the leaves off, you
subsequently arrive at some sort of deeper or clearer understanding of his intentions.
Sadly I must admit, that in my point of view I see nothing but a one minute “artist” (if
that would even do it), who does nothing but point his finger at his own crowd, a plain
and simple parody of his own vague criticism, resulting in null! Woodsen is a joker, with
a humour I just find annoying and self-centred, chronically ironic, crying for attention.
He might be seeking a position, viewed upon by others, as someone discovering the
“tragedies” about art, but in the manner of his expression, he becomes his own worst
enemy. A hipster with the typical, “look at me and my opinion” kind of guy, who just
brings more confusion to the table. A hype has been created around the “Untitled Short
Story”, as it presumably is send from the future by great mysterious machinery. Who
seriously believes that? I bet he is a cocky club-kid look-a-like, failing his art academy
studies somewhere in the western part of Europe, who perhaps could have become
something more, if he wouldn’t have wasted his time on commenting on art itself. The
fact of matter is, that if Woodsen has more to give than what I perceive, his loud irony
makes it unbearable to dig into what that exactly would be...
-Hans Kappelhoff
Alfred’s iHuman reminded him, that he at the given moment, should head towards room
210 for his meeting. Alfred was applying for the academy’s Fine Arts department, a
department with an unique program that focuses on developing students’ expressive
capacities, with emphasis on thinking and acting as a visual artist. The interview takes
place in a room with the newest “Peoxels Creativan”, 3a “Peoxels ZaZZler”, 4paper printouts
of diagrams, displaying random artists’ recognition along with their money flow,
electro-pop on full volume, and three art critics asking questions about your personal life.
The art critics’ purpose is to imitate the situation, when unknown drunk people come up
to you at social art gatherings (exhibitions), attempting to mess with your mind. While
Alfred had waited outside the examination room for his turn to enter an artistic version of
the TV show “Idols” (or atlist how its in d future (btw. U shuld mos def come ona visit 2
d future sumday, it’s so awzm IMHO)), his mind was full of floating, worried thoughts of
weather or not he would be admitted to the school.
A hologram of a delightful lady rapidly beamed its way out from a spot in the ground,
right in front of Alfred.
Well… hello there, are you applicant 352, Mr. Alfred Johnson? The hologram-projected
3 A Peoxels Creativan is a 980-processor human creativity analysing computer, with the
ability to perceive information about a person’s attempt to create something within the
arts, subsequently calculating the information into statistics, concluding the exact chances
of that person fitting into the greater art tendencies of the century.
4 A Peoxels ZaZZler consists of a larger invisible silicone cube, scanning artworks for
information about the person’s work, expanding from materials used to the different
styles in brushstrokes. The information is usually redirected to a Peoxels Creativan or a
Peoxels Creativrem, which reads the scanned artwork information, and places it into a
higher context.
lady asked. Alfred responded, yes smiley (), I am. Is this a performance, or are you
really applying for the school’s program sir? No no… it’s not a performance, I really am
wishing to become a student, at this here fine academy. The lady smiled at Alfred, Ok,
well you’re now awaited in the examination room, please enter. For the reason of
Alfred’s nervous momentary condition, he indulged in an attempt to comfort his mood,
by telling a joke. So… O may it B 1 lady, should I use the force? By the means of
referring to previous centuries’ culture, Alfred appeared to be somewhat intellectual,
despite the fact that it might seem silly to refer to movies such as “Star Wars”, even
though a hologram was in attendance. I mean come on! The existing great universal war
is not exactly a bona fide war.
Basically an eminent silver cube, drifts around the universe, seizing any approaching
molecules into rotating smiley-emoticons. Nevertheless, the witty comment appeared to
amuse the lady, and as she vanished backwards into the ground, Alfred, grabbed his
portfolio and marched through the room’s silky-identification doors.
We Here at ArtKnow, share a great gratitude for being in the position of, writing our past, present as well as our future. Through the years, we as a growing agency of broad-minded intellects, gained indescribable knowledge of our common “art history”, so that we can forward the subtracted knowledge, to anyone who might be interested. At ArtKnow, we specialize in generating
educating data volumes of astonishing journeys, elevating through the fields of “art”. By subscribing via the payment methods we provide, we deliver the
subscriber, daily wisdom-giving episodes of our “art history”.
What have we got? You bunch of Retarded Maggots with spasm disease, of supersonic
dimensions! Lately our data volumes can be identified with, gene-manipulated alligators’
deformed shit children, of shit full of shit what a shit fuck! We can loose investors! Do
you know what that means? Or do I have to slice the problematic situation we are in, out
in human skin, before you realize the challenge we are obliged to overcome?
The entire hall of terrified colleges, remained absolutely still as Mr. Kratenkroof
unrelentingly continued his speech.
We must construct attention-grabbing volumes, not some mind-numbing story like the one
we did on “Elli Cimber” (Elli Cimber is a robot-driven painter from the future, who
primarily converts data-system errors into colorful figurative paintings). Who was in
charge of designing that volume? It was Karl Rottenfootri, right? Yes… sir… yes… I was in
charge… sorry. Mr. Rottenfootri… When you stroll home after work, perhaps you ought to
take a detour through the more slummy parts of the city, or through any uneducated area
where the inhabitants share a vague knowledge of art. Along your little detour, you shall
question twenty forthcoming individuals, on the subject of Vincent Van Gogh. The
colleges remained silent in the moments to come. Ehmm yes… I suppose you want me to ask why… sir?
Yes! Ask away. Why? Sir. Do you assume the forthcoming are capable of, truly recognizing
a painting of Van Gogh? Well sir… perhaps not, ehh, maybe a few? Is that correct sir? Yes it is, my little
student. Now, regarding Van Gogh, what are these people most likely familiar with?
Perhaps… that he sliced his own ear of? JACKPOT! Now that’s a catchy story! What the hell is catchy
about the Elli Cimber volume? She had a cat named “Fluffy”… and Fluffy accidently got run over by her own robotdriven
wheels. Sir.
A tremendous amount of dark smoke, steamed out of Mr. Kratenkroof’s burning ears,
whereas his entire brain exploded out of his shivering forehead, spattered up against a
newly painted wall and rebounded back into his skull. As this reaction from Mr.
Kratenkroof’s behalf, beyond belief and physical possibilities, simultaneously takes place
whenever Mr. Kratenkroof gets mad, the terrified colleagues succeed in remaining calm.
Mr. Kratenkroof inhaled so mightily, that his raw-diamond buttoned fine suit broke over
in halve, along with illustrious Chinese firework bombing away in the background.
“FLUFFY”!!! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK! Mr. Kratenkroof screamed so intensively, that
twenty-nine massive windows in the room shattered. DO YOU HEAR THE SOUND?
KA-CHIIIIINGGG!!!! (The sound of a loaded cash register, blasting
out its’ cash drawer to the extreme MAX, resulting in a
hurricane of 100000000$ bills and gold… Everywhere!!!!)
DOU YOU? ARE YOU LISTENING? No sir, I mean, yes I am listening… no ka-ching sound around here.
Exactly! So tell me gentlemen, what have you got for me today? Seeing that everyone was
reasonably afraid, it had to be the brave Mr. Ronald Moniguts who broke the ice. Sir, we in
department 435 are writing a story on the upcoming conceptual artist, Patrick Neiman.
And? Well, for the purpose of relating objects to space (quite literally), Patrick Neiman is the first artist to
solidly place objects on Jupiter, however, we tracked some dirt on this guy. Apparently an alien, savagely
raped Patrick on one of his journeys to Jupiter, and is currently being treated for alienated hepatitis-c. We
can even branch the artist with speculations such as, Does something more than brutal rape, exist between
the evil alien and Patrick Neiman, seeing that he keeps flying back to Jupiter for his monthly shows?
Subsequent to Mr. Moniguts’ small presentation, the hall of colleagues eagerly waited for
Krattenkroofs’ response.
SOLD! I LOVE IT!
The sound of a massive orchestra roused the room, along with joyfully crying grown
men, congratulating one another by shaking hands and opening Champaign bottles.
Several co-workers managed to do some pretty impressive back flips out of the eminent
windows, as hot chicks in limousines crashed synchronically through the walls.
Every soul in the room screamed all at once, The Future is amazing!
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“A true masterpiece” TATE MODERN
“THATʼS WHAT IʼM TALKING ABOUT!” THE NEW YORK TIMES
“I wish I had written that. Luca Van Der Woodsen is a real artist!” ANDY WARHOL (Andy Warhol
resurrects in the future, in the shape of a Coca Cola bottle)
“What a great guy” “ ”PLANET EARTH”
☆¸.•°*”˜˜”*°•.¸☆ ☆¸.•°*”˜˜”*°•.¸☆
☆¸.•°*”˜˜”*°•.¸☆ ★ ✾◕✾ ★ ☆¸.•°*”˜˜”*°•.¸☆ ☆¸.•°*”˜˜”*°•.¸☆ ★ ✾◕✾ ★ ☆¸.•°*”˜˜”*°•.¸☆
Luca Van Der Woodsen
Lucavanderwoodsen.com 2011
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