The blank canvas stared back at the uninspired artist. Not satisfied with the lack of results, it began to speak. “Yo bro, stop thinking so fucking much.”
Pablo Mee nearly choked on a chicken salad sandwich purchased from a vending machine. He was completely surprised by the voice of what was usually inanimate and silent. He tried to clear his throat passage by performing the Heimlich maneuver on himself. Squeezing and pumping his mid-section while hugging himself. His face turned bright red, his teary eyes bugging out, until finally, he exorcised the barely chewed gunk.
As Pablo tried to regain his composure, the canvas continued, “Seriously, you need to get that angst on me. Inspiration, schminspiration, it’s all stupid nouveau riche labeling bullshit. An artist without art is just a useless ist.”
Pablo honked out the last remnants of sandwich, his body undulating like an animated letter ‘u’. It was now time for the incredulous Pablo to speak, “Angst? That wasn’t angst. I was merely saving myself from death.”
The canvas asked, “And?”
There was a long silence. Pablo smacked himself in the head with his fist, nearly knocking himself unconscious. With this, he put brush to canvas and created this piece.
Pablo Mee would go on to win the Andrea M. Bronfman Prize, which was typically awarded to Israeli decorative artists working in ceramics, glass, textiles or jewelry. No further explanation was given, and he accepted the award graciously.