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Authors: Megan Bradbury
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thinks he has eaten something that doesn’t suit him. He must be more careful with his diet. His appetite has not changed with age.
He crosses this out and begins another letter.
He writes that he is feeling better than he has felt in a long while, yet there is so much work to do back home that it would be best if Peter were to visit him rather than Walt travelling to
Washington. When could he come?
Walt folds the letter then crushes it into a ball and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. He stands up. He waves his napkin as a goodbye to Bucke.
Bucke watches him go.
In their compartment, Walt is describing the assassination of Abraham Lincoln as if he had witnessed the event himself.
Did you really see this, Walt? asks Bucke.
In a way, we all have seen it. Either we are sitting low down in the centre of the stalls or we are perched high upon the balcony. It depends who is telling the story. The position of our
imagining shows others who we think we are. I used to see our president in the camp. One morning he crossed through the medical unit and stopped to talk to the soldiers there. He shook the hand of
every man he met as if he was a friend.
Bucke remembers the first occasion when he heard
Leaves of Grass
being read at a party. He listened to
Leaves of Grass
, then he met the man. The feeling was the same.
Dream of Life
(1996–2008)
STEVEN SEBRING
You wanna film me? Patti Smith says.
Yeah, says Steven.
What for?
To see who you really are. To see what you do and how you do it. To understand you, Patti.
You wanna cut me up into tiny pieces and sew the parts together? she says. If you film the outside, what about my insides? If I explain my inner thoughts to you, everything will come out, you
see. Can you really communicate another person by showing them walking into the shower, or humming tunes, or eating dinner, or sharing memories? You’ll try to tell a story but there is no
story. Wouldn’t it be a trick? I am right here, man. I’m growing old. So are my kids. So are you. This is the only thing I know. I don’t need to be remembered. It’s all in
the art I produce.
She shakes his hand, thanks him for his time, and walks out the door. Steven waits for the ‘I’m sorry, but’ speech from Lenny Kaye, but Lenny smiles and says, We’ll see
you next week.
17
In the grounds of the Detroit Institute of Arts, Michael Heizer, sitting in the cabin of a tractor, waves his cowboy hat and lassoes the air whilst dragging a thirty-ton
granite slab over the manicured lawn.
This is
Dragged Mass
.
The commission is a breakthrough, a way to get things moving here, rip apart the marbled hallways and the monotony of the established art scene. The torn gulley that scars the lawn and the heavy
weight of mass symbolize the necessary destruction of old order.
The curator Sam Wagstaff welcomes it with a loving embrace.
The mass sits there for days. Rain falls. The buckled gulley becomes a muddy trench. The mass, which is supposed to sink majestically into the lawn, does not sink. Eventually, it is hauled away,
blown up with dynamite and removed piece by piece.
In New York City, Sam tours the downtown galleries during the day. At night he tours the bars and clubs. This is a contrast from the world he’s left behind, the perfect
green lawn (restored at great expense), the empty hallways and reverent air. There, his body was just an empty ancient vessel. Here, he can touch things, feel their weight.
The first time Sam Wagstaff sees Robert Mapplethorpe is in a photograph on the mantelpiece of a mutual friend. In the picture, Robert, dressed in a French sailor hat, is
smiling coyly at the camera.
Who is this? says Sam.
Robert Mapplethorpe.
The feeling in his stomach is the same as when he looks at a great work of art.
The first time Sam speaks to Robert on the telephone he says, I’m looking for someone to spoil. And Robert says, You’ve found him.
The first time Sam visits Robert’s studio, he sees a
He crosses this out and begins another letter.
He writes that he is feeling better than he has felt in a long while, yet there is so much work to do back home that it would be best if Peter were to visit him rather than Walt travelling to
Washington. When could he come?
Walt folds the letter then crushes it into a ball and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. He stands up. He waves his napkin as a goodbye to Bucke.
Bucke watches him go.
In their compartment, Walt is describing the assassination of Abraham Lincoln as if he had witnessed the event himself.
Did you really see this, Walt? asks Bucke.
In a way, we all have seen it. Either we are sitting low down in the centre of the stalls or we are perched high upon the balcony. It depends who is telling the story. The position of our
imagining shows others who we think we are. I used to see our president in the camp. One morning he crossed through the medical unit and stopped to talk to the soldiers there. He shook the hand of
every man he met as if he was a friend.
Bucke remembers the first occasion when he heard
Leaves of Grass
being read at a party. He listened to
Leaves of Grass
, then he met the man. The feeling was the same.
Dream of Life
(1996–2008)
STEVEN SEBRING
You wanna film me? Patti Smith says.
Yeah, says Steven.
What for?
To see who you really are. To see what you do and how you do it. To understand you, Patti.
You wanna cut me up into tiny pieces and sew the parts together? she says. If you film the outside, what about my insides? If I explain my inner thoughts to you, everything will come out, you
see. Can you really communicate another person by showing them walking into the shower, or humming tunes, or eating dinner, or sharing memories? You’ll try to tell a story but there is no
story. Wouldn’t it be a trick? I am right here, man. I’m growing old. So are my kids. So are you. This is the only thing I know. I don’t need to be remembered. It’s all in
the art I produce.
She shakes his hand, thanks him for his time, and walks out the door. Steven waits for the ‘I’m sorry, but’ speech from Lenny Kaye, but Lenny smiles and says, We’ll see
you next week.
17
In the grounds of the Detroit Institute of Arts, Michael Heizer, sitting in the cabin of a tractor, waves his cowboy hat and lassoes the air whilst dragging a thirty-ton
granite slab over the manicured lawn.
This is
Dragged Mass
.
The commission is a breakthrough, a way to get things moving here, rip apart the marbled hallways and the monotony of the established art scene. The torn gulley that scars the lawn and the heavy
weight of mass symbolize the necessary destruction of old order.
The curator Sam Wagstaff welcomes it with a loving embrace.
The mass sits there for days. Rain falls. The buckled gulley becomes a muddy trench. The mass, which is supposed to sink majestically into the lawn, does not sink. Eventually, it is hauled away,
blown up with dynamite and removed piece by piece.
In New York City, Sam tours the downtown galleries during the day. At night he tours the bars and clubs. This is a contrast from the world he’s left behind, the perfect
green lawn (restored at great expense), the empty hallways and reverent air. There, his body was just an empty ancient vessel. Here, he can touch things, feel their weight.
The first time Sam Wagstaff sees Robert Mapplethorpe is in a photograph on the mantelpiece of a mutual friend. In the picture, Robert, dressed in a French sailor hat, is
smiling coyly at the camera.
Who is this? says Sam.
Robert Mapplethorpe.
The feeling in his stomach is the same as when he looks at a great work of art.
The first time Sam speaks to Robert on the telephone he says, I’m looking for someone to spoil. And Robert says, You’ve found him.
The first time Sam visits Robert’s studio, he sees a
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