"A Masterpiece"

Written by Paul Rust

PAUL:

So, did everyone see that rocket-ship blow up on t.v. last weekend? Did you cry? Did you cry when that rocket-ship blew up last weekend?

Because, apparently, when that rocket-ship blew up, we lost seven heroes. That’s what the newspapers are saying at least. We lost seven heroes. As a result, I’ve discovered it takes three steps to be a hero: 1) be at the wrong place, 2) at the wrong time, and 3) die. That’s heroism. With that logic then, I could walk outside right now, get kicked in the head by a donkey, die… and then I’d be a certified hero.

Then you’d all cry. Because that’s what people do when heroes die. They cry. (pause) But I didn’t cry. Why would I?

EDGAR:

No Shame audience! I pose a question to you! (pause) When was the last time you saw a painting… and it moved you? Truly moved you? A painting that was better than a really great orgasm… or a really great drug… or even a really great taco, for that matter. When was the last time you saw a painting and thought, "I love this painting and in no way would I prefer a taco over this." Christ. When was the last time you saw a painting and felt anything?

PAUL:

This business with the rocket-ship though… it’s nothing new. I mean, we’ve seen it all before - people mourning a loss only because it had the virtue of being grandiose and being seen on television.

The biggest example of this, of course, was September 11^th. (defeated) I mean, outside of the people who directly knew the victims in the attacks… all that grieving was just an excuse for people to get together, label something a tragedy, and then wear the appropriate t-shirt to show how bad they felt about it.

The only true thing people were crying about on September 11^th was the realization that America was fallible. They found out we were weak and vulnerable and could be attacked. And oh, what a tragedy that was. Maybe we weren’t as great as we thought we were. (beat) And don’t tell me you were crying about the victims of September 11th. People die everyday. And you don’t cry over that. You only cried because it was a spectacle.

For me? When I saw those airplanes run into those buildings, I just stared ahead. I didn’t feel a thing.

EDGAR:

once or twice in your daily conversation. I went to that art school to become a professional painter. During my freshman year, I enrolled in all the necessary painting courses and attended them regularly.

And in each painting course I took, it could be expected that the teacher would dim the lights, fire up the slide projector, and show us countless paintings upon countless paintings — these alleged "beautiful works of art"… these so-called "masterpieces." And as always, every student in the class — every brown-nosing and status-humping student — would eagerly raise their hands and proudly proclaim to the teacher that this painting "made them feel this" or that painting "made them feel that."

And I knew they were lying. Because these paintings couldn’t make you feel anything. These paintings were dead and stagnant and irrelevant. The only thing I felt when I saw these paintings was that I wanted to destroy them. (pause)

And that’s when I dropped out of art school to begin my career.

PAUL:

The worst thing about these so-called national tragedies though — and I do mean the worst thing — is when people use them as a reason to find God. It’s so inane. They take some random disaster and project some extra-worldly meaning upon it. You know, an airplane runs into a building or a rocket-ship blows up or a cat falls off a roof and they automatically see God in it. Their reasoning is, "Well, I realized that we’re mortal and our time on this Earth is limited, so I better make my peace with God."

Well, that isn’t faith. That’s fear. And all you’re doing is using God as a "blankey" or a night-light that seemingly keeps the boogeyman away, so you can feel better at night and rest easier.

If you only believe in God, so you can stay in good fortunes, that’s not faith. It’s superstition — through and through.

EDGAR:

A brief summary of the career of yours truly, Edgar Morrison! (beat) Perhaps you’ve heard of me?

After I quit school, I decided I would never paint again. Instead, I would focus my creative energy and attention elsewhere. What I would do is… I’d buy art… and destroy it. This was my new art form.

At first, due to budget constraints, I had to start small. I would visit some forgotten gallery and purchase cheap, local art… such as this. (Edgar pulls out a pastel drawing) And I would destroy it. I would, say, burn it in an oven or I’d spit on it or I’d cut it into pieces. (begins cutting)

Afterwards, I would sell these remains to galleries… for a handsome price. The art scene began to take notice. They called my work genius. They called it brilliant. They said I was pushing old art into a brave, new forum. I was making millions.

With this newfound wealth, I was able to achieve my real dream. I had made enough money to purchase the original prints of world-famous paintings — the so-called "masterpieces" — and destroy them. Utterly and completely.

For instance, I splattered mud on an O’Keefe. I ran my car over a Dali. I pissed on a Kandinksy. It was brash. It was new. It was a breakthrough.

And it was mine. (continues cutting the drawing)

PAUL:

I just don’t get it, that’s all. I mean, why do people need to believe in a God just to feel better about their lives? They take comfort in thinking, "Oh, this shitty thing happened to me because it’s all part of God’s plan." Or, "I can get through these tough times because I know God loves me and he’ll support me."

But why do they need this? It’s just so frustrating. I wish people could just live happily without having to depend on some abstract concept to get them through the day. It’s no different than when people use sex to get by… or drugs… or food.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I should just be happy that people have found some way to find peace in this world… that they’ve found a way to be happy. But that’s like spending your whole life on a crutch you don’t really need.

This isn’t cynicism. This is a full-fledged belief in people and people’s ability to find peace through their own will. That’s a hundred times more optimistic than some quote from The Bible. (Paul picks up a Bible from a chair)

Because I know people can do this… if they had the chance. I wish… I wish I could just eliminate every religion from existence, you know? I wish I could remove every church off the face of the earth. I wish I could destroy every Bible in the entire world. (Paul begins ripping pages from The Bible)

EDGAR:

This offends you, doesn’t it? On some level, this offends you. It offends you that I would take works of art that people have put their time, energy, and love into… and destroy it. It offends you that I’m destroying art, destroying beauty.

Well, I’ll let you in on a secret: this isn’t art. This isn’t beauty. This is merely composition and color and aesthetics. And art is not aesthetics. It’s a punch in the kidneys, it’s a kick in the ribs. It cuts your skin and peels it back. It slits your eyelids, so you’re forced to see. Art does this for you.

PAUL:

I’m doing this for you. You’ll be grateful. You will see there’s no such thing as faith in this world.

EDGAR:

There’s no such thing as beauty in this world.

PAUL:

How does this make you feel?

EDGAR:

How does this make you feel?

Paul and Edgar throw down the items

JULIA:

When I was fourteen, my little brother drowned at the public pool. He was coming off the waterslide and banged his head on the lip, knocking him out. He sunk to the bottom and no one saw him. His name was Jerry.

Everyone in my family had their own way of dealing with it. My mom put on a happy face - changed her hair color, tried to make new and exciting dinners each night. My father spent longer days at work. Most nights, he wouldn’t come home until 9 or 10 o’clock. He claimed his promotion brought greater responsibility… but we knew better.

As for me, I decided to only focus on the important aspects of life. I quit long-distance running. I skipped breakfasts and lunches — most times, dinner. I hid in my bedroom. (pause) I was angry.

I was angry at my parents for letting Jerry swim alone. I was angry at the lifeguards for not seeing him drown. I was angry at God for letting it happen.

So, I just quit believing in God. Jerry was only six years old. He didn’t do anything wrong. The only thing he brought into this world was love and beauty. And I didn’t want to believe in a God who took away beauty. (pause)

Last April, while I was on a vacation, I went to an art museum. At first, I didn’t want to be there. It was boring. It was statues and photographs and paintings. Just dull. I decided to leave.

But then… as I turned the corner to exit, I saw one of those… "Sunflowers" paintings on the wall. You know, by Van Gogh? When my eyes hit it, I couldn’t move. I was frozen. I just stared ahead. The colors were so bright, so full of life and beauty. And right there, in the middle of this museum… I began to weep. And everything around me disappeared. The walls vanished. The people evaporated. It was only me and this painting. (pause) I realized beauty could exist in this world.

It wasn’t there on its’ own though. It was much too powerful to exist on its’ own. I knew there was something greater behind it, something I couldn’t ever comprehend or even fully grasp. This beauty had a larger purpose. (pause) And that’s when I started to believe in God.

Pause. Paul and Edgar look away,

EDGAR:

Occasionally… from time to time… there are moments… when I’m surrounded by the burnt canvas and the melted paint…

 

PAUL:

… And the ripped pages in smoldering rubble…

EDGAR:

… And I wonder, "What have I done for this world? What beauty have I given it?"

PAUL:

(pointing to the mess on the stage floor)

This… and this… and this… has made nothing better.

EDGAR:

And then quietly, I say to myself, "I know beauty exists…"

EDGAR and PAUL:

(together)

"… I only wish I could see it."

Beat. BLACKOUT.

 

 

 

 

THIS SCRIPT IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL AND MAY NOT BE DOWNLOADED, TRANSMITTED, PRINTED OR PERFORMED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR

• February 7, 2003 - No Shame Iowa City
  

  Performed by Michele Thompson, Paul Rust, Chris Stangl

• May 9, 2003 - Best of No Shame (Iowa City)
  

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