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.