Serial novel ALL THE PEOPLE YOU CAN EAT Chapter 14: The Twelve Sins of Capitalism

Usually the gallery was pristine and church-like, with huge canvases hanging like devotional tapestries against the vast whiteness of the high walls. Today, for “The Twelve Sins of Capitalism” by Messie Blithers, the lesbian African-American artist who had won a Guggenheim for her piece “Slaveship,” in which she built a luxury yacht called the “Jemima” out of planks impregnated with copies of the Constitution spun from Mississippi cotton, the Gargosm gallery resembled a Turkish bazaar.

Against one wall was a row of washing machines and dryers. Against another wall stood a row of snarling lesbians flanked by a row of cowering WASP men. Against another wall stood a row of simpering blond women flanked by a row of posturing gay body-builders. Against the fourth wall was a row of cages with goats in them. A ramp came round a corner and ended in the middle of the floor. The floor was strewn with cow patties. The audience sat in two cattle pens.

Morte Gargosm (he pronounced his name Mor-TAY, not MOR-tee) had that tanned, silver-gray look affected by L.A. men in cold weather. He was dressed in black. Black turtleneck, black jacket, black trousers, black shoes, black eyes. He stood talking to Rachel Sprockpissen of the Butterchurn Emerging Artists Foundation, the producer of the event. Rachel wore a dark green smock with pink leggings and cowboy boots. She looked like a chic witch in a Wild West pastiche.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” Xavier said to Domino.

“I would never overlook the opportunity to see my garments celebrated.”

“Or desecrated.”

“Same thing. As long as they are the stars of the show.”

“I like the goats, don’t you?”

“Yes. Who are all these ugly people? They all look deformed.”

“They are artists.”

“Why are they so ugly?”

“That’s why they become artists. To create the beauty they do not have.” Click here to read on (and look under "previous posts" if you need to catch up).