Joseph Farley

Art

“The problem with art is that not everyone seems capable of appreciating it.”

Vogel listened to what the curator said. He nodded in agreement.

“It can’t all be pretty pictures,” he said.

“Or mere representations. A camera will always do better at that game,” said the curator.

“Or a 3D printer,” Vogel added.

“Yes, of course, for statuary,” said the curator. “And yet we still yearn for the simple, the organic. That is one of the reasons I appreciate what Udermeyer does. He and his imitators combine the natural, the simple, the organic and the theoretical. Their work can be both representational and complex and elusive.”

“I have seen many of Udermeyer’s pieces. He has done realistic portraits and busts, but also works that are more of a study of geometry.”

“He teaches us about life,” the curator said. “Both its beginning and end. He does it with shapes, smells and textures. We learn to overcome any initial feelings of disgust, any urge to regurgitate, and become aware of the intrinsic beauty to be found in the worst possible materials.”

“He certainly is remarkable,” Vogel said. “How many years did he spend training his bowels?”

“I read an interview in which Udermeyer stated it took him fifteen years to develop his technique.”

“Really? I heard it took him much longer.”

“Well, who is to really know?” the curator said. “He worked on his art for years without notice. He was nearly sixty before he had his first showing at a major gallery. “

Vogel thought about this before replying.

“There can be benefits to obscurity. It provides an artist with an opportunity to explore, develop and blossom without being poisoned by outside forces. They can stay on their own course, become something truly unique and new. Too many artists find the spotlight too soon. It happens much too early. I blame social media in part, and the curiosity people tend to have for anything new.”

“They do seem to have a brief moment before getting crushed by the critics or getting corrupted and turning into a machine that stamps out more or less the same thing over and over again.”

“Money and fame, ” Vogel said. “These are the gifts of the marketplace.”

“The marketplace giveth and the marketplace taketh away,” said the curator.

“Do they even get fifteen minutes anymore?”

“Come on. You know they all get more than fifteen minutes. It is after they have worn out their welcome that we wish they had wasted much less of our time.”

The two walked in silence viewing more of the exhibit. Vogel felt fortunate to have been allowed an early glimpse before the formal opening of the museum’s retrospective on Udermeyer’s work. It was on of the benefits of being a major benefactor of the museum and a well known collector of Udermeyer’s art. At the curator’s request, Vogel had loaned several statuettes and a few small canvases to the museum for the special exhibit. Vogel smiled whenever he came upon one of his loaned pieces during his private tour. He liked how the placards displayed his name prominently along with the name of the artist. Vogel had always loved art, but had never had much talent for it. This was his way to be part of the art world.

“I heard he experimented a lot with diet over the years,” Vogel said.

“From what I understand that is true. What he consumed depended on the piece he envisioned. For some he needed the color and texture supplied by carrots and corn. For others he needed to eat something else such as oatmeal or sardines.”

“It still amazes me what he was able to do with his ass. It had to have been very difficult. I tried to imitate him without success. All my attempts ended in a mess.”

“I must confess I was once tempted to try Udermeyer’s methods myself. It  did not end well. Udermeyer is several levels beyond the artists in the sixties who used to squirt paint into their anuses then squat over a canvas. I doubt anyone will ever be able match his success, let alone surpass him, using similar methods.”

“Udermeyer is one of a kind,” Vogel agreed. “A true master.”

“I am sure his version of the Mona Lisa would have impressed Da Vinci,” said the curator.

“Michelangelo would have appreciated his take on David,” said Vogel.

“Udermeyer proved in his middle period that he could compete with the old masters with canvas, murals, and large statues.”

“Yes,” said Vogel. “I still enjoy viewing Udermeyer’s works from that period. Still, I have always been more impressed by his more impressionistic, almost surrealistic work from his most recent period.”

“If we are talking about personal preferences,” the curator said. “I have always had a soft spot for some of his early works. Many are small, often no larger than the size of a palm, but what he does is revolutionary.”

“How could I disagree,” said Vogel. “Some of Udermeyer’s early works are rather spectacular when you think about it. I used to wonder how could he possibly form a perfect sphere like that, or a cylinder, or a cube? I know I could never contort my sphincter like he could.”

The curator nodded.

“Back then he was developing the building blocks that would help him later create much larger works.”

“You can see the future in his Statue of Liberty that is on loan from my collection,” said Vogel. “It is no more than seven inches tall, yet has so much detail.”

The curator smiled and shook his head. 

The curator said, “It is so hard to believe. Udermeyer insists it came out that way all in one shot.”

“It is remarkable what he was able to do.”

“It is unbelievable what he is still able to do now. Age ninety, a colon cancer survivor. He had a colostomy but somehow still manages to produce art from his stoma.”

Vogel laughed, “Yet some people still refer to his art as nothing but shit. I have heard people say that this entire Udermeyer exhibit is just a  pile of shit.” 

“What fools.”

“Philistines.”

“Yet they are right in a way,” said the curator. “It is all shit, at least in base substance.”

“Yes it is,” Vogel said. “But it is so much more than that. You could call it ethereal.”

“I could not agree with you more.”