on anything currently?”
The whole world wanted to know that? Cale ignored such ridiculousness and said, “I have a few things here and there but nothing's set in stone.”
The Hipster King thrust his head back in laughter and said, “Set in stone! Hah! I love the pun!”
“Yeah,” Cale said and looked over at Brian and Nick. Both were back in their own worlds. “I have a commission piece coming up for...uh...I think the mall on 16th Street.”
“Actually, these commission pieces you've been doing these past couple of years brings me to my next question. When you first came on the scene, you were immediately regarded as one of the great modern day sculptors of the realism movement. I remember this one time a group of us took a road trip to Washington DC to see your exhibit at the National Gallery of Art. I must have looked at your piece, The Other Side for over an hour. The despair and panic in the man's face as he is leaning over that block with his hand thrust down is something I will never forget. I always assumed it symbolized art trying to save us. And you created that when you were only twenty. Simply amazing!”
“Thanks,” Cale tried to say as meaningfully as he could before moving onto the rehearsed speech he gave every time someone acted incredulous about the young age he created his most famous pieces. “But the praise is unwarranted. I feel that we use age as a crutch to ease the blow of failure or to justify being unable to accomplish a feat. We say it all the time, 'It's alright if I haven't gotten published, I'm only this age.', or 'I'm so and so years old, it's alright if I am not marri...married yet.'”
The man nodded in approval and wrote something down in his memo pad. “You are absolutely right, Mr. Dawkins. I just realized I never asked you the question I was setting up for. So you've always had such hyper-realism in your works, but lately everything you make has been about as abstract as you can get. And you stopped using stone in favor of a diverse set of materials. I remember reading in a magazine once that you stressed you would never do abstract. You had that great quote, 'Ambiguity is nothing but a way to baffle with bullshit.' What caused you to change your mind?”
After all of the commissions he'd coasted through by slapping a few materials together and giving it a made-up meaning, Cale didn't have an answer for the hipster king. He still wanted to defend his quote though because he still felt it. He felt it every time he heard an artist boast about their genius in painting the abstract. Or a musician with vague lyrics. Or an author thinking they are funny by overusing similes. Authors who overuse similes are like... uncreative.
But the sluggishness prevented him from coming up with an answer, so Cale admitted, “I guess I'm nothing but a hypocrite.”
Looking down at his list of questions, he asked, “Here's a question everyone likes to answer. If you could wish for anything in the world, what would it be?”
Cale didn't want to tell him his actual wish, so he went with his number two. “I wish The Dismemberment Plan would get back together.”
“Really? That's your wish?”
“Yeah, back when I lived in DC, my closest friends and I would go see them almost every weekend. Some of the happiest times of my life were at their shows. We would go see them at a small bar or even the 9:30 Club, then come back to my studio where I would sculpt all night while my friends hung out. In fact, I did The Other Side during a weekend when The Dismemberment Plan had shows on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. After they broke up, my friends and I pretty much parted ways, and here I am now...”
Cale looked toward the window and rubbed his tired eyes. The interview had no end in sight.
A bell rang signaling the end of Diana’s third bad date of the night. Normally, three bad dates at a speed dating event might not be too bad, but three dates was all Diana had so far. She had no idea why she accepted
The whole world wanted to know that? Cale ignored such ridiculousness and said, “I have a few things here and there but nothing's set in stone.”
The Hipster King thrust his head back in laughter and said, “Set in stone! Hah! I love the pun!”
“Yeah,” Cale said and looked over at Brian and Nick. Both were back in their own worlds. “I have a commission piece coming up for...uh...I think the mall on 16th Street.”
“Actually, these commission pieces you've been doing these past couple of years brings me to my next question. When you first came on the scene, you were immediately regarded as one of the great modern day sculptors of the realism movement. I remember this one time a group of us took a road trip to Washington DC to see your exhibit at the National Gallery of Art. I must have looked at your piece, The Other Side for over an hour. The despair and panic in the man's face as he is leaning over that block with his hand thrust down is something I will never forget. I always assumed it symbolized art trying to save us. And you created that when you were only twenty. Simply amazing!”
“Thanks,” Cale tried to say as meaningfully as he could before moving onto the rehearsed speech he gave every time someone acted incredulous about the young age he created his most famous pieces. “But the praise is unwarranted. I feel that we use age as a crutch to ease the blow of failure or to justify being unable to accomplish a feat. We say it all the time, 'It's alright if I haven't gotten published, I'm only this age.', or 'I'm so and so years old, it's alright if I am not marri...married yet.'”
The man nodded in approval and wrote something down in his memo pad. “You are absolutely right, Mr. Dawkins. I just realized I never asked you the question I was setting up for. So you've always had such hyper-realism in your works, but lately everything you make has been about as abstract as you can get. And you stopped using stone in favor of a diverse set of materials. I remember reading in a magazine once that you stressed you would never do abstract. You had that great quote, 'Ambiguity is nothing but a way to baffle with bullshit.' What caused you to change your mind?”
After all of the commissions he'd coasted through by slapping a few materials together and giving it a made-up meaning, Cale didn't have an answer for the hipster king. He still wanted to defend his quote though because he still felt it. He felt it every time he heard an artist boast about their genius in painting the abstract. Or a musician with vague lyrics. Or an author thinking they are funny by overusing similes. Authors who overuse similes are like... uncreative.
But the sluggishness prevented him from coming up with an answer, so Cale admitted, “I guess I'm nothing but a hypocrite.”
Looking down at his list of questions, he asked, “Here's a question everyone likes to answer. If you could wish for anything in the world, what would it be?”
Cale didn't want to tell him his actual wish, so he went with his number two. “I wish The Dismemberment Plan would get back together.”
“Really? That's your wish?”
“Yeah, back when I lived in DC, my closest friends and I would go see them almost every weekend. Some of the happiest times of my life were at their shows. We would go see them at a small bar or even the 9:30 Club, then come back to my studio where I would sculpt all night while my friends hung out. In fact, I did The Other Side during a weekend when The Dismemberment Plan had shows on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. After they broke up, my friends and I pretty much parted ways, and here I am now...”
Cale looked toward the window and rubbed his tired eyes. The interview had no end in sight.
A bell rang signaling the end of Diana’s third bad date of the night. Normally, three bad dates at a speed dating event might not be too bad, but three dates was all Diana had so far. She had no idea why she accepted
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