David Schoffman's The Body Is His Book

This is the definition of renunciation.

My dear colleague David Schoffman doesn't fish, he doesn't ski, and he doesn't belong to a gym or a secret society. He doesn't invite people over to his studio, nor does he accept invitations for brunch. He doesn't sleep in nor does he stay out late. He hasn't bought a pair of trousers or a shirt since the Carter Administration. He's never participated in a pick-up basketball game or joined a pub crawling clique looking for a spirited Karaoke venue. He doesn't attend meetings or initiate phone calls. His 3-speed Schwinn has rusted from disuse and the last time he watched TV, Johnny Carson was hosting the Tonight Show and Soupy Sales was a household name.

..... and for what ... ?

Painting?

 .... what a waste ....   

THE UNEXAMINED LIFE IS NOT WORTH DRAWING

My dear friend David Schoffman has done the unthinkable.

He has performed the terrifying ritual of naked introspection and has translated the results into an indelible artifact.

From his callow beginnings to his current state of sagacious semi-bitterness, David has compiled a series of drawings and notes that lucidly distill his inconsequential life. 

That such a book is now for sale is only further evidence that his vanity has tragically conspired with his indiscretion.

I read the book - twice - and felt the acute embarrassment of the jealous husband peering into the window of his wife's lover.

All the same, the illustrations are superb!

 

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.

 

Dahlia Danton & David Schoffman

 

I've known the Los Angeles painter Dahlia Danton for many years. We've grown apart but have remained in intermittent contact. 

Recently we appeared together with my good friend David Schoffman on Timmy Black's ridiculous podcast "The Lives of Contemporary Artists." It was a wonderful reunion.

It occurred to me that Schoffman and Danton are very similar and it was no surprise to me that they hit it off so well. Both live in L.A., both dislike animals, and both have an inflated sense of their own artistic merit.

All the same, they are charming and I wish them well.