I took my eyes off the pig entrails laced together and draped with care over the concrete head of George Washington for a moment to check on Jim. He was in the next room now, staring at a painting of Jesus Christ floating in space amidst a bright bouquet galaxies and stars.
“You prefer paintings over the readymade artwork?” I asked him.
“I don’t consider smearing blood on taxidermy animals in wedding gowns and throwing pig innards over statues as worthy of the label ‘artwork’. And I’m not sure I would call these ‘paintings’. What’s Jesus doing in outer space?”
“He’s the Son of God, He can go wherever he wants.”
Jim sighed with both hands raised slightly, palms up and open in confused curiosity, “Why did you bring me here?”
“Are you not entertained?” I asked, “Would you rather stare at the same mediocre painting of the ocean waves, over and over again. How about the same scenic trail through the undergrowth leading to the cabin in the woods? This stuff has imagination, something you won’t see in your dentists’ office.”
Out in the hallway, a group of students giggled as they walked past a stone giant stark naked and bending over to pick neon phallic fungus growing out of the back of a life-sized longhorn.
“Who has the time to come up with this shit, let alone put it all together?” Jim looked up as he passed between the giant’s legs with eyes iced over from sensory overload.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” I said.
Profile: Traci Luker