Act 1, Scene 4

The narrative began with Act 1, scene 1 on April 10, 2013.

To access all scenes, scroll to blog archive at the bottom of the page.

David Newkirk, climbing carefully up to stand on one of the many chairs.

Hello everyone and welcome. I am David Newkirk, an artist from Toronto, Canada. No doubt you would like some things explained. You have noticed, for example, that we all understand the many languages represented here ... very convenient, I think. And looking around, you will see that we are nearly all artists. Many of you will find it a bit disorienting to be in Venice in September, 2013. However, I think you'll enjoy yourselves as you get used to the idea. How could you not, when you see who else is here? The simple explanation for your presence is that I wanted to say "thank you." Thank you for the art to which you have given yourselves so completely. Thank you for the privilege of being able to stand close enough to the things you have made to 'feel' your hands as they touched canvas. Thank you for allowing me to feel some of your yearning, your searching, and your expression of so many authentic ideas and emotions. These words sound sentimental and hokey, even trite as I speak them. Perhaps feelings of nostalgia and gratitude are simply a function of my age. Nevertheless, I would be someone else entirely without having experienced your art. 

This gathering is selfish as well, in a way. I wanted to bring together all of you who have informed my life and work, to speak with you, to share your company for a time. On your invitation, this event was called The Juicetrain Dialogues. If you are interested in a more detailed explanation of that title, you'll find a description on my web site. (Van Gogh is heard to mutter "What the hell is a web site?" Laughter and applause ripple through the crowd). Briefly though, you are the links in the train, the Juicetrain – a lineage, a legacy if you like – and this train's cargo is its vitality and it's interconnected indebtedness ... its juice. I am at work on a series of paintings that will be shown together as The Juicetrain Dialogues, next year. The paintings, while they are neither portraits nor interpretations of your work, are expressions of my gratitude to you all. My hope is that, when they are assembled together, the paintings will continue the conversations we have begun here today, and that others will join in our discussions. I see the project as a variation on the early Renaissance convention of the sacra conversazione, this time however, without any religious overtones. Perhaps this will all become clearer as we talk. But it's not my own work I want to discuss with you, it's yours, and your experiences, your ideas. This event is what my imagination suggests you might say to each other, given the chance. Of course just what you might say may have nothing at all to do with art. We'll see. 

Now that you are here, I hope you'll agree that spending time together will be both fun and interesting. The words you speak in these pages will in fact be my own, as this is my own particular, entirely fictional fantasy; or they will be the actual words of some of you who have agreed to be co-authors in this endeavour. I apologize for creating any dialogue that may not feel quite right to you. I hope that, when possible, you will join the conversation and represent yourselves accurately. If you wish to become a new participant, please notify me in advance so that I can adjust the narrative here to give your character an entrance. By that I mean that I would write something like "so-and-so left the train station and encountered someone at the vaporetto platform." Then you can go ahead and create some dialogue, and a scene of your own devising.

None of us knows with certainty just where this conversation may take us, but I hope we can all enjoy finding out. I'll try to participate in your discussions when I can, and will eavesdrop on others. And I have also decided that, as time itself is a malleable thing for my purposes, I won't be limiting my own editing to a strictly linear model. To add richness to the anecdotes and descriptions in this story, from time to time, I plan to go back to earlier scenes to insert new details and ideas. 

I am overwhelmed at being in your company, and I suspect that others of you will feel the same. Time now for coffee. Thank you again for coming. Enjoy your stay. Oh ... and my special thanks to Diego Velázquez, who has been of enormous help in getting you all here. (applause) Enjoy this beautiful city; enjoy the company; enjoy the conversation.

Newkirk steps down, walks into the cafe´ with Velázquez and others. Canadians Jack Chambers, Ron Shuebrook, John Kissick and Colette Whiten sit at a couple of tables, enjoying the sun and all the activity in the busy piazza. Barnett Newman and Agnes Martin turn their chairs to join the Canadians.

Barnett Newman

http://jameswoodward.wordpress.com/2012/02/01/barnett-newman/

Newman (smiling warmly, speaks to Kissick) John, (shakes hands) your work is quite exciting. I am an admirer, but tsk, tsk! a "lethal slide into outright abstract atheism?" What do you have to say for yourself, my friend? Do you feel any differently now, being here with us among De Kooning, Marden, Picasso, Velazquez and all the others?

John Kissick

Kissick

"Well.... faith is hard to come by these days, and I'm not entirely sure if I am dreaming right now or cast in some strange postmodern play. In any event, if I am indeed sitting next to you, Barny, then abstraction is clearly not Dead ... and I am a believer again!!" [1]

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[1] Contributed by John Kissick

A waiter approaches the group and takes orders for coffee. Barnett Newman and Agnes Martin excuse themselves to join others inside the cafe´. John and Joice Hall pull their chairs over to join fellow Canadian artists Chambers, Kissick, Shuebrook and Whiten. John Hall makes introductions and sits down beside Jack Chambers.