CS [v.o.]:We caught up with conceptual artist Bnzork Parabellum in her luxurious Palm Beach home. She showed us some of her recent work.
BP: This is the overdue library book phone. As you can see, it is a telephone made entirely out of overdue library books.
CS: But -- extraordinary!! It looks just like an ordinary phone! Faschinating.
BP: They are conceptual overdue library books. It's a very, very deep subject.
CS: It seems that most people are not ready for your work, Bnzork -- but for those who are, the intellectual rewards are incalculable.
BP: So it seems. But in reality I have calculated them all and inscribed them on this schedule.
CS: Which schedule?
BP: This one -- well, it appears to be a small banana peel. But in fact it is a wall of fire thirty miles long consisting of artichoke livers, and that of course constitutes said schedule of rewards. In a purely conceptual sense, of course.
CS: When did you first hit upon the idea of working entirely within the conceptual domain?
BP: I haven't! Each of my works is concrete, visceral. At the same time if they were to exist, I would annihilate them, I would loathe them so.
CS: Yet, in a very real sense, they do exist, if you'll pardon my saying so, and they are annihilated by you each and every day, wouldn't you say?
BP: Of course. You know, it's funny because people in New York always love my work, but when they tell me that I always say, "that's not my work." Because they don't understand that my work is them.
CS: Critics have given your work mixed reviews. The reviewer for the Times called your work "essential, monumental", while the critic for the Herald labelled it "moose dung". How do you respond to these views?
BP: I usually respond to that by draping Canadian bacon over an eel, conceptually speaking, of course. But in the case of that review from the Times, I think ... I think I draped Canadian bacon over the Herald. I can't really remember -- honestly, I don't read reviews. I enamel them.
CS [v.o.]: Parabellum also showed us a recent work of hers entitled "Hamlet". Over seven hundred feet deep, "Hamlet" is a fried egg sliced in half and served with a dollop of surgeon generals. None of which can be seen – all that is visible of "Hamlet" is a recent copy of Time magazine. Any issue will do, Parabellum explains:
BP: If you don't have a Time laying around, just use a Newsweek, but that changes the concept a little.
CS: How so, if you don't mind my asking?
BP: It's a subtle difference (but you can notice it if you really pay attention) ... the egg is replaced with a half naked Sammy Davis Jr., and it's only 1 inch deep.
CS: But, yet on another level, it's enormously deep, isn't it Bnzork?
[BP and CS chortle]
CS: What of your recent exhibit in the Amazon Jungle? Was it well received, would you say?
BP: What exhibit?
CS: Your recent exhibit in the Amazon Jungle. The one which featured your carbonated sculptures, and your painting "The Mona Lisa"?
BP: The what jungle?
CS: The Amazon Jungle.
BP: There is no such Jungle. Not since my 1972 piece, "I Have Just Created the Amazon Jungle and it will now Exist for All Time".
CS: Right. Can you tell us a bit about your carbonated sculptures?
BP: No. Carbonated Sculpture is a concept which I have not yet realized. In it, sculptures are constructed out of steel-reinforced concrete. I have not figured out how to carbonate them yet. Several of them have won grand prizes at international art shows -- in my opinion.
CS: And what about "The Mona Lisa"?
BP: With Mona Lisa I attempted to reconceptualize painting as something which was already done by someone else, in this case of course, Rembrandt.
CS: But the Mona Lisa was painted by ...
BP: My point exactly.
CS: Ah! Recently, Bnzork, your piece "Cup of Scrod" sold for 4.5 million pounds in a private auction at Dudburys of London -- An historic event, if you will, in that a conceptual piece has never been exchanged for currency before. How do you feel about that?
BP: Deeply insulted. Because part of the concept of "Cup of Scrod" was that it was to be auctioned off for a considerable sum. And the very realization of that concept has, in a certain sense, annihilated the piece. Which on the other hand I find quite exhilarating.
CS: It is as if with each work you create a conceptual framework, only to discard it moments later in favor of another one, eventually settling on the one in which you finally construct the work – when all along the first one would have done just fine.
BP: And that's just conceptual frameworks. In the seventies I was more interested in conceptual tortellini. Of course I only produced one work in the seventies ...
CS: "Tortellini"
BP: Right. Which I don't consider successful at all.
CS: Why not?
BP: Because it's a masterpiece. Morever, it renders the remainder of
my work unnecessary. Which piece are we talking about?
CS: So why the sudden burst of works in the eighties?
BP: Well, the eighties were a heady time for a lot of us. On Jan
1st, 1980 I produced over sixty thousand works. But each
one of them was thirty miles in diameter. Can you imagine the heating
bills? It wasn't until Jan 2nd that I hit upon
"Tortellini on Rye", the most pathetic piece of crap I ever
created.
CS: Tortellini on Rye inspired a generation of young artists to give up. What advice do you have for these young people?
BP: To the young artists of to day I would say "please, stop cutting through my lawn, you're trampling the crabgrass." To that I would add, "more chutney, you dimwit" or "cecil bought a spark plug."
CS: Wise words for the young artists today from one of the old artists of tomorrow. What about your upcoming MOMA exhibit? It's rumored that for this exhibit you're going to reconceptualize MOMA itself.
BP: Yes, that's correct. As you can see, the exhibit is open to the public at this very moment.
CS: I'm not sure I know what you mean.
BP: In the Arctic. But the MOMA show will consist primarily of some delightful watercolors I did while on vacation. They show verdant, sun-dappled forest scenes.
CS: This seems a departure from all your other work.
BP: Yes, but like my previous work, they plump when you cook 'em.
CS: And it's really 'em, isn't it, that we're here to talk about tonight, in that 'em is really the ... the essence, if you will, of the matter at hand, isn't it?
BP: No, it isn't. LEAVE MY HOME IMMEDIATELY.
CS: But -- Bnzork, we're not at your house -- unless you mean that in the metaphorical sense.
BP: I meant it more in the nautical sense.
CS: but of course -- a reference to your days in the service?