The David Schoffman Memoir/Manifesto

My good friend David Schoffman is so boring, his life so uneventful, and his professional achievements so scarce that he was able to condense his memoir into a 100 page artists' book. (Half of those pages are drawings).

THE VIRAL OMNIPRESENCE OF DAVID SCHOFFMAN

 

It's getting rather annoying.

Every time I open my phone, every time I open up my email, every time I go on Instagram or YouTube or Twitter, one of the first things that pop up is something about my good friend, David Schoffman.

He's like the Taylor Swift of conceptual art. 

I get it. These days the only things that matters are followers, likes, pokes, hearts, clicks, and subscribers. I understand that nowadays, in order to remain relevant, an artist must become ubiquitous. But David, I ask you, is this really dignified behavior for a serious adult?

THE ARTIST AS DRIVER

My good friend David Schoffman drives a beat-up old car.

This has major significance in Los Angeles, a place where cars are seen as a reflection of a person's station in life. The fact that his car is a 1993 two-door Jeep Cherokee where one of the doors has been rendered inoperable due to a faulty hinge, speaks volumes

It gets about 16 miles-per-gallon of gas. It is therefore impractical. The interior upholstery is falling apart. Spiders leave webs overnight that extend from the rearview mirror to the glove box. There's a faint smell, not unpleasant but vaguely rancid nonetheless. The radio reception is spotty as if it had a mind of its own. The engine is sluggish and accelerates slowly.

Like I said, in L.A. one's car is one's mobile metaphor. 

 

 

WHERE IS DAVID SCHOFFMAN

My good friend David Schoffman loves the rails.

There's something about the single perspective, the abiding point where all things vanish, that appeals to Schoffman's metaphysical appetites. 

Having reached that point in his career where achievement is measured exclusively by endurance, David's indifference to his own legacy is more an expression of hauteur than a manifesto on detachment.

He's secretive. 

The last time he was interviewed for publication was in 2021, an incredibly long silence for someone known for garrulous self-aggrandizement. I'm not even sure if he still lives in the U.S. 

I heard a rumor that he boarded a train in Halifax intending to cross Canada with a sketchbook and a 35mm camera, but it hasn't been verified by anyone trustworthy enough.

Regardless, wherever he is, I'm sure it's not the destination that motivates him.

It's the evasion.