by Jerome du Bois and Catherine King
Section 9: Lisa Zeitgeist Under The Influence
[Monday afternoon, May 30, 2005. MININT. Email intercept between Central Arizona University (CAU) Museum Curator Lisa Zeitgeist, in her suite at the Golden Tulip Hotel, Havana, Cuba, and Ted Player, American art collector and Director of Special Projects at CAU, at his computer in his office there in Scottsdale, Arizona. (Mantis here: Ted Player is ultimately responsible for developing an upcoming, comprehensive Cuban Art Show, based on the collection the museum --meaning Lisa Zeitgeist-- has been accumulating over ten years; this year's acquisitions will be crucial to the big exhibition. He is scheduled to arrive by plane on Wednesday.)]
Ted darling,
Things are strange here this year. I need you down here as soon as possible to help me see if I'm seeing clearly. I know I can't hurry anything, either; it's a stupid request. I also know I don't seem to be writing clearly, and that's another indication that things are . . . strange. I'm just panicking, frankly. I keep thinking of cracks, for some reason, cracks and crumbling. And a whirling vertigo feeling, like a whirlpool. I know I sound loony, but it's spooky here. Fuck! I wish I had your big bear arm to comfort me, Teddy boy.
I couldn't sleep last night because of a single piece of art --a black-and-white woodcut-- I saw in Guillermo Gorgojo's office yesterday. I'm a nervous wreck, and I must admit I acted . . . strangely with Guillermo. I think I even tried to take the thing away from him, but it seems kind of foggy now. I think we parted on bad terms. That damned print . . . There's twelve of them, actually, made by a graduate student with the ubercool name of Flash No More. (He's both your gender and color preference, from what I hear. So get down here before Yoan snags him!)
I won't try to describe what I saw in that print, except that the shapes are regularly geometric and laid out in a four by three grid --at least, at first. The thing is, after you look at them for just a few moments, the elements seem to shift, morph, and reshape, and what I saw was scary, because it was as if something rich, and something that would guarantee riches, was shown to me, only to be taken away as soon as I saw it. It happened over and over, a kind of helpless rushing vertigo feeling --the world dropping out from under me, sucking my stomach hollow-- and that was before Guillermo refused to let me take them to show our visitors.
Because they could make a fortune, Ted, or at least a big splash, if we editioned them carefully, and got more of the same from Flash No More. Guillermo says he's stubborn, maybe even anti-American, but I haven't met many Cubans yet who can turn down what's green and folds. Yoan and Abel are coming over in a little while, and I'll get them to ask around about this student. (He's also a tattooist, so he shouldn't be hard to run down.)
And speaking of students, there are some other strange things going on.
It's as if the older students are with our program --the seniors and the graduate students-- but the lower three levels . . . they seem remote, even unfriendly. I remember when they used to crowd around me. I'm worried about how many studio visits we'll be able to arrange after the Lecture Series begins. I was counting on some of the younger students preparing mini-shows, but when I toured the ISA the other day a lot of them weren't even there, their doors were locked. And the few I saw in the common room ignored me! The other day three of them really treated Yoan and Abel with disrespect. That's what I mean by cracks. We need those student artists!
Maybe they're in hiding because of this New Mango thing. You don't know about this, but in the last four days these little white cards have been popping up all over town. Each card says the same thing: on one side, THE NEW MANGO, on the other WE ARE NEXT. Guillermo told me that Carlos Lage thinks it's an art prank, but as far as we know it isn't. Still, maybe the students are afraid of cops or MININT coming around, so they're laying low or visiting relatives for a day or two. Fine. As long as they show up for the Lecture Series. Oh, I know they have to, but still --they have to. You see what I mean by worried? We have lots of people coming down. Which reminds me . . .
Another surprise, at least to me: Heather and Dillard will be coming down soon, too. Did you know that? She told me just last week that they were going to Bermuda. I wonder what's going on? What changed her mind? She knows I have to retire after this next exhibition, so she couldn't be trying to horn in on anything, could she?
Just in case, though, don't tell her or Dill about this guy Flash No More, or his monoprints.
Thank God Rosa has me lined up for a beauty trip at some special salon out in Santa Clara this weekend. I'm . . . I feel so out of it. It's those damn images I can't get out of my head. Maybe her beauty lady can work some voodoo, and wash them away.
In the meantime, there's always room service.
Love,
Lisa
PS. Email me, even if it's just a verbal hug.
[Mantis here. An hour and two mojitos later, Ted Player responded from Arizona:]
Lisa my love,
I got you right here. I'm hugging you right now. We singles need to stick together, even though you're straight and I'm gay. I lean on you, too, lady, so be strong for me, too, okay? We've got a big exhibition on the boards. Your crowning jewel, darling, so let's stay steady.
I made a few calls about the Benlinederrys. Nobody knew anything. So I decided to call Dillard himself, what the hey. You're going to love this. He's such a sweet guy, and you know about his beliefs, of course. (I own one of those handout crosses of his, actually.) He'd feel bad about lying. Well, darling, they're coming to Cuba this year because the Lord told him to! I'm not kidding! No details, but nothing with an art angle that I could tell. Just coincidence? I wonder how he talked Heather into it? As Dillard would say, "The ways of the Lord . . ."
It does sound like it's a different island from last year. Here I have to confess that as I read your first paragraph I shuddered, and flashed on an image of a big black hand reaching out to me and tapping me on the shoulder. I actually flinched, darling. Now, I don't claim to be psychic, but I do claim to be sensitive to those influences. And you started it, anyway, with those voodoo prints from --what a name!-- Flash No More.
So. I wish I could get there sooner, because I can't do anything from here. My contacts in Havana, as you might guess, don't have internet access. I need to be on the street there, at sea level, on the Malecon, so just hang tight --I mean, loose, darling-- until Wednesday. Have a mojito for me.
Love,
Ted
PS. Are my arms really that hairy?
[Two hours and four mojitos later, feeling little pain, Lisa answers the door of her suite for artists Abel Barroso and Yoan Capote. MININT captured the audio easily, from two different microphones. The conversation is in English, mostly.]
Lisa Zeitgeist: Boys! Good boys! Good! Good to see you, don't wanna be alone. Spooky here now!
Abel Barroso: Spooky? Hey, Lisa, be cool.
Lisa (audible deep breath): Right, right . . .
Yoan Capote: Hi, Lisa. Don't worry. We'll always be here for you. Just give us a call . . . That reminds me, can we plug our chargers in somewhere?
Lisa: Wherever . . . Wait, Yoan, c'mere . . . You smell . . . smoky but sweet. What is that, some new cologne?
Yoan: Oh, we just came from Distinto's. New Mango!
Lisa: Oh! So you found out what it was?
Yoan: What what was?
Lisa: The New Mango, Yoan.
Yoan: That wasn't from Distinto; that was from Fab and Rocco. Distinto's writing a song called--
Lisa (in a loud, distinct voice): What was from Fab and Rocco?
Yoan: Oh! This weed, this mota they have. That's what they were calling it, because of the way it tastes and smells. That must be what you smell. We smoked some. We got some. You want some?
Lisa (after a long sigh): No, I'm old style; I'll stick to alcohol. Let's sit down . . . So this whole New Mango thing could be about marijuana?
Abel: I have no idea, Lisa . . . Why are you shaking your head?
Lisa: Because it doesn't make sense to advertise marijuana, does it? Those little white cards . . . you don't see, do you?
Abel: I guess not. I sure know Fab and Rocco wouldn't print up cards. I think they're just picking up on it, like Distinto with his song. Nobody knows what the New Mango is.
Lisa: His song?
Abel: Yeah, we tried to tell you, Distinto's writing a song called "The New Mango." But he didn't make those cards. He got one from somebody, then got the idea for the song. Okay?
Lisa: Who?
Abel: Who what?
Lisa: Who gave Distinto the card?
(a short silence, then:)
Yoan: You know, I think he said it was slipped under his studio door.
Abel: That's right.
Lisa: You guys . . . yeah, okay, I'm getting it. I don't even live on this bizarre island, but I get it. Jesus.
Yoan: You get what?
Lisa: I mean that people --foreigners, extrañjeros-- must hand you two artists business cards all the time. You don't see that they must be rare on the street. Am I wrong?
Yoan: I guess not. But what can these little white cards, you know . . . do, anyway?
Lisa (after another long sigh): You must have smoked a lot of that weed.
Abel: Hey, come on, Lisa, have another mojito.
Lisa: Thanks for reminding me. (Sounds of telephone business, where she orders several drinks from room service. Then:) Look, you guys, remember during one of the recent Havana Bienales, how one of the artists --I don't know the name, you probably do-- simply distributed full, clean, white rolls of toilet paper in derrumbes all over the city?
Yoan: Yeah. That was dumb; what do you do, sell pictures of them?
Lisa: I think so, but that's not the point; the point was, they stood out. A l'il tiny roll of toilet paper throws a whole city square into perspective. Do you see? These l'il white cards are . . . are huge. (A giant sob at the end.)
Abel: Lisa, Lisa, settle down.
Yoan: Yeah. They don't really say anything, do they?
Lisa: (after calming down) WE ARE NEXT. What do-- how do those words, how does that phrase, strike you, Yoan . . . Abel?
Abel: Seems pretty arrogant. Like they know something everybody else doesn't. Like they're better. It pisses me off, to tell you the truth.
Yoan: Seems pretty lame to me, if they're contras. What are they going to do, change everything with dumb little white cards? It's vague, too. There's nothing to hold onto. What are they about, whoever they are? It's too vague. It's stupid.
Lisa: For me, it's that WE . . . WE . . . WE. For some reason, it doesn't sound collective, it's--
(she is interrupted by delivery of several drinks by room service. After the three are settled again, and she takes a long pull, then:)
--oh yeah, that's-- oh, yeah, now listen-- where was I?
Yoan: Something about the WE in WE ARE NEXT?--
Lisa: Okay, I got it. It's not really collective, see, because look at the other side: MANGO is singular. One image, many people, and direction. Yes. Out of many, one. E pluribus unum. In vagueness is strength, maybe. What are the first three words of the US Constitution? WE THE PEOPLE. Who are the people? ALL the people. This is . . . this is new.
Yoan: New . . . How?
Lisa: . . . Let me put it this way: is this New Mango thing in in in --(pause)--in any way-- connected to Him?
(a long pause, then:)
Abel: I see what you mean.
Yoan: Yeah . . . He would make sure it was connected to Him. Shit, man! Abel! does this mean we're in trouble?
Abel: Settle down, Yoan, it's just a song, and we're just doing the--
Yoan: Which goes "You are the New Mango"--
Abel: --CD cover. Hey! Will you please--?
Lisa: CD cover? What--
Yoan: We're screwed.
Abel: We're fine! Come on, Yoan. It's his song, remember? and we've already got some interns to do the real work . . . and besides, it's harmless. Remember the original Mango song, back in 1999? It seemed kind of subservise --"Isn't it time to fall from the tree?"-- but everybody let it go, everybody danced to it, probably even Him. So what's the big deal?
Lisa: It isn't 1999.
Abel: Uh--
Lisa: What CD cover?
Yoan: Abel, we're screwed . . .
Lisa: What interns?
Abel: Three of the seniors. Look, Yoan--
Yoan: Yeah, what?
Abel: Listen. It doesn't have to be a big thing, or political. You just made a video with a lot of logos in it, no? a lot of slogans and claims. Big, unrealistic claims and ambiguous slogans. That's what the whole thing was about, wasn't it?
Yoan: That's right . .
Abel: It's like Nike, no? "Just Do It." Just do what? Run. Exercise. Fill in the blank. Sounds a lot like "We are next" to me. Next to what? Next to nothing. Lisa, I don't think the vagueness is strong. I'm with Yoan: it's stupid. It's empty.
Lisa: Maybe. I'm still real uneasy about the unofficial part.
Yoan: Mierda, and you not even Cuban. Here's another thought, and it's happened before: what if He is behind it? Like flypaper: set out something sweet, and see who comes around. See? Paranoia is second nature to us here . . . I think Abel's right; still, I'm glad we got some interns to do the work.
Abel: And, Lisa, like Yoan said, we're paranoid as it is here anyway, you know, so we don't need . . . Never mind that. You've been jittery as hell since we came in. What's worrying you, anyway?
Lisa (after another near-sob): Thanks for noticing, Abel. I mean it.
Abel: Well, what is it?
Lisa: I saw something. Just a piece of art. Student work. I've seen thousands of pieces of art, and I've been swept off my feet lots of times. But this thing . . . It's the first time a piece of art scared me.
Abel: Student work? Whose? Do we know it?
Lisa: That's what I wanted to ask you. They're monoprints by a second-year student who goes by the name Flash No More. He--
Yoan: ¡Mierda! That guy! (sounds of footsteps receding)
Abel: Here we go again.
Lisa: What the hell? Where's he going? Yoan! (to Abel) Why did he run down the hallway?
Abel: We had a kind of strange run-in with the guy at Distinto's.
Lisa: So you do know him?
Abel: No; we've only seen him around, from a distance. Never close up. He had been there to give Distinto a tattoo --oh! you'll love this-- a tattoo of a mango. We're kind of --we don't see a lot of the younger students; I mean, it's always the seniors and post-graduates who knock on our doors, or call us, or who we end up hanging out with. So this guy Flash No More, we don't know much about him.
Lisa: Or his work?
Abel: Or his work.
Yoan (reappearing): He's creepy.
Abel: He's scary.
Yoan: He's creepy as hell!
Lisa: What happened? What did he say?
(pause)
Abel: Uh. Nothing. He was leaving as we were coming in the door, and when he saw us he--
Yoan: Turned to stone. Literally.
Abel: Don't talk crazy, Yoan. Lisa, he's just like a lot of these younger artists; for some reason, they don't like us. He just stood there until we left.
Yoan: No. He turned to black basalt right in front of us. And nobody moved until he decided they could.
Lisa: Too much mota, eh, Yoan? Maybe he's just homophobic.
Abel: No. It's not that. Besides, I'm not gay, but this vibe came off of him--
Yoan: You weren't there. The guy is intense.
Lisa: I'm not surprised. So is his art. It's got me all -- (gulp). You haven't seen any of it?
Abel: No, like I said, I guess we're not pure enough for some of these kids. What's it like?
Lisa: Well, I only saw one print, but Guillermo told me they're all based on a simple four by three grid. But the patterns inside each cell . . . again, geometric and abstract, but not for long . . . It isn't Op art, but the lines move.
Abel: What was it called?
Lisa: What was . . . ?
Abel: The print, Lisa, what was--?
Lisa: Untitled, but the whole suite of twelve is called The Abakua Derivations.
Yoan: Abakua! Great! ¡La ronca los cojones! I knew the guy was dangerous!
(receding footsteps again)
Abel (low voice): Honestly, Lisa, I've never seen him so jumpy. He's usually so smooth, you know; Yoan rolls with it. This isn't like him.
Lisa: You see? I know how he feels. Something's in the air.
Abel: Yeah --New Mango. (Loudly) Yoan, I'm loading the pipe!
Lisa: Are you sure you should--?
Abel: Don't worry about it. But just to be safe --hey, Yoan, get a towel, would you, to roll up by the door? Come on, man, come back here; you need to relax.
(sound of Yoan returning)
Yoan (mumuring): Abakua, New Mango, a guy who's some kind of shapeshifter . . . (sounds of lighter and puffing)
Lisa: Well, we've all got to keep it together. We've got loads of collectors coming down this year --more than ever--
Abel and Yoan (together): Really?
Lisa: Oh, yeah. Dick and Kathleen van Ness are bringing a dozen for sure. Gregory and Cynthia D'Escher are coming down with two more couples. Jon and Jen Spaddock will be coming for the first time. New money. Who else . . . ?
Abel and Yoan (together): Benjamins . . .
Lisa: Excuse me? I don't know any Benjamins.
(Abel and Yoan chuckle)
Abel: You know them all, Lisa!
Lisa: What are you babbling about?
Yoan: Benjamins. Hundred-dollar bills. It's just a new slang term for tourists --the rich ones, anyway. I think it comes from El Yuma gangs.
Lisa: Ummmm . . . sounds anti-Semitic. Why don't you call them Franklins?
(more laughter)
Yoan: We didn't start it, Lisa. We don't control it. Like the New Mango. You know the chismorreo [Havana street talk]; it's the only thing on Earth faster than light. And we don't care if somebody's Jewish or not. Who else is coming, anyway?
Lisa: . . . Well, Wade Snow is already here.
Yoan: The art mag guy? What's that called again? Fade? Made?
Lisa: Wade's, Yoan, Wade's Art Review. You know that.
(Abel and Yoan crack up.)
Yoan: Yeah, I know . . .
Abel: El Yumans . . .
Lisa: You guys are having fun. These people are your bread and butter, you know, you ought to have some . . . (Sudden silence, followed by a long pause) . . . What?
Abel (coldly): Don't you mean our rice and beans?
Lisa: Take it easy, Abel--
Yoan: Don't worry, Lisa; we'll behave. We'll be good little Cuban artists.
Lisa: You guys, I didn't mean to--
Abel: We know what we're doing. We've been doing it for ten years. You don't have to insult us. You really must be nervous.
Lisa: You're right. I'm sorry. And I'm waaay past nervous.
Abel: Abakuuuuuaaa . . .
Yoan: Abel! Don't even joke about it.
Abel: Yeah, yeah . . . the Ears, the Shadow . . .
Lisa: What are you talking about?
Yoan: He means They're listening, probably.
Lisa: Here? In this hotel? In this room? But why?
Yoan: Control, of course. They listen everywhere, probably. We just assume it. It's safer that way.
Lisa: But then won't they come arrest you for the weed?
Abel: No. You're our protection. MININT would never hassle you. After all, you're their bread and butter.
Lisa: Touché. But doesn't the same thing apply to you guys?
Abel: Oh, Lisa . . . We love you, but we're worlds apart. Look --what's this?
Lisa: Your money clip, with your money in it. So?
Abel: It's a silver dollar sign money clip, and it's filled with dollars, mostly. I'm a dollar Cuban; I'm also a euro Cuban and a dinar Cuban--
Yoan: --I got paid in Kruggerands once--
Abel: And I've been paid in Maple Leaves. And He has taken a bite of every one. You think we swim like fish in this society, free as you please. No. In fact, because of the money, because of our "success," we probably have more Eyes and Ears on us than regular Cubans.
Yoan: And The Shadow.
Abel: Yeah. There's this guy, or more than one guy, who sneaks into a lot of artists' studios --New Inventado types, mostly-- and checks things out. Because we've been off the Island, you know. We call him the Shadow. Sometimes he or they makes sure the artist knows somebody was there --rearranging things. Again, it's about control. . . . So yeah, Lisa, we have money. We don't starve. We can provide for our families. We wear the ropa de marca and the bling-bling and we breeze in and out of the hotels with just a nod to Security. We have fairly new, fairly sturdy homes. But He looms over it all, remember. We never forget Him --even we, insulated with our satellite dishes, are not allowed to-- and we never forget that He could take it away in a heartbeat, with one sip of his tea. It may look like we're free and easy, but --"You can play with the leash--"
Yoan: "--but not with the dog." The way we're talking I'm expecting the Roaches at the door any minute.
Abel: Especially when you call them Roaches. Settle down, Yoan. Haven't you been listening? More collectors than ever before, Lisa said. I think He will want the whole Lecture Series to go as smoothly as possible.
Lisa: Yes! Finally, an encouraging word! I'll drink to that!
Yoan (sotto voce): You're right, Abel. Fidel always follows the money.
Abel: And we're his obedient children.