Art and Soul

Carmel California, a popular tourist area in the summertime. We begin inside an art museum full of abstract sculptures. The camera sweeps through the museum as the credits roll then the sculptures are flashed images until finally the camera lands on the back door as the curator enters. He makes a quick sweep through the displays, adjusts a name plate, dusts off a sculpture with a cloth tucked in his jacket, unlocks the door and opens the museum to the outside world. We sweep out of the door and are confronted with the various tourists about the area. A group of young people strut down the avenue in bathing suits with their beach equipment. A young ten year old girl buys and ice cream cone from a street vendor. A pair of obviously wealthy women holding shopping bags glide into a boutique. A daughter asks her father to buy her a souvenir shirt from a cart. A family with three small children trot around eagerly and stare at the beautiful ocean in complete awe. A shot of the crowded beach. Boats floating along the coast. The market of small venders just off of the sand. The streets filled with still more tourists. One of the local hotel lobbies.

Scene 2

Frank Kelson's hotel room. He is visiting with his mom, dad, younger sister, Janie, and younger brother, Max. Frank sits on the uncomfortable bed bent over a sketchbook. The camera bulls out as his family enters the picture. They are bustling around as they get ready to go to the beach.

DAD:

Sits down next to Frank looking slightly ridiculous because of his Hawaiin-print bathing suit.

Are you sure you're not coming with us?

FRANK:

Yes. I'd much rather sit in this bland hotel room than be surrounded by giddy, sunburnt tourists racing about like they've never seen water before.

MOM:

Stop being such a angsty teenager and spend some time with the family.

FRANK:

Well, I would but I'd rather not be seen in public with the big Kahuna over there.

Points to Dad in his swim trunks.

JANIE:

Off camera. Screaming.

Mommyyyyyyyyy, tell stupid Max that that's MY towel.

MOM:

Heads to abate the crisis.

Janie, don't call your brother stupid.

FRANK:

Rolls his eyes and returns to his drawing.

MOM:

Off camera.

Honey, let's go. We've got to get these kids to the beach.

DAD:

Alright.

Rises.

See ya later, then, Frank. Don't have too much fun in here without us.

FRANK:

Gives a barely audible grunt in reply.

The door slams as they all leave. Frank draws for a while more, flips through a few TV stations, gets bored and gets up.

Scene 3

Outside on the street. Frank is barely walking a few moments before he is bumped from behind by a businessman dressed in Hawaiin-shirt-casual and talking on his cell phone. The shove tips him off balance and he causes a woman next to him to drop her soda. As he clumsily tries to apologize a pair of eager bicyclists whiz past him. Utterly overwhelmed he ducks into the nearest building for refuge.

Scene 4

Frank has happened to stumble into the sculpture museum. For a moment the white walls are plinding but his eyes adjust and he begins to look around. Frank is an artist himself, so he loves to look at others' work. He begins a slow perusal of the room. He is shown pausing at one sculpture, then another. He steps close to a large figure of a dancer and is then shown in front of Evolution. The sculpture is shown for a long moment and then the camera focuses on Frank's profile as he contemplates the artwork. He continues around and the crowd dwindles. As he glances over a group of smaller works a hand reaches forward and taps him on the shoulder.

CURATOR:

I'm sorry, son, but we're getting ready to close.

FRANK:

Oh, sorry about that. Alright. You are the Curator, then?

CURATOR:

Shakes Frank's hand.

That I am.

FRANK:

You've got a great collection here.

CURATOR:

Well, I'm glad you appreciate it. That's rare, you know, these days.

FRANK:

The museum seemed crowded enough this afternoon.

CURATOR:

Yes, well...

Fades off as if to imply that many who fill the museum aren't the most sincere in their fascination with art.

Pause.

Well, we really are closing.

FRANK:

Oh, right, sorry.

Turns and leaves the museum.

Scene 5

The hotel room. Janie and Max are playing cards on the ground.

MOM:

Frank are you coming to the movie with us?

FRANK:

Walks into the shot and sits on the bed to tie his shoe.

As much as I would love to sit through yet another Disney sequel, I'll pass.

MOM:

What can be so much fun in this room that you never want to do anything as a family?

FRANK:

I don't just sit around on my ass, Mom. There's a sculpture museum I found that I really want to visit again.

MOM:

Maybe we could all go, as a family.

FRANK:

Trust me, an art museum is no place for those two.

The camera switches over to show Janie holding Max in a headlock.

MAX:

Jaaaaaniiiee! I wasn't cheating I swear.

MOM:

Comes in to break it up.

Altight, lets get going you two little monsters.

She begins hearding them out the door.

We'll see you later sweetheart.

Door slams.

Scene 6

The camera glances over Evolution, and then shows Frank again staring at it but this time from farther away. He is leaning against a wall not simply looking at the sculpture, but looking at the others who look at it. A few people pass by and glance at it for a brief moment before moving on.

ALEEA:

Comes and stands in front of the sculpture. She stares at it for a long moment, circles the entire thing, and then gets in really close. Her nose nearly touches the stone as she examines it, then she begins to look at it from various levels, squatting down low and wrapping herself around to take it every angle.

FRANK:

Approaches from over by the wall.

Excuse me, but are you an artist?

ALEEA:

Starts a bit overdramatically.

What? Huh? Well, yes, on occasion when the powers beyond inspire me, I have been known to create art. Now, if you'll excuse me.

She spins around and leaves in a flourish.

FRANK:

Stands confused for a moment. Shakes his head and again looks at the sculpture. He hears some one coming and has an idea. He hurries forward to cover the name of the artwork.

KATE:

Approaches the sculpture.

FRANK:

What would you guess the title is?

KATE:

What?

FRANK:

Guess the title of the work.

KATE:

Why?

FRANK:

Just for a reason to stretch your creativity in this artistic environment.

KATE:

Not really enjoying his game. Um, sure, let's see, I guess "Circle of Stone".

FRANK:

Slightly disappointed in her boring answer. Uh, no, it's "Evolution".

KATE:

Dislikes that name. Oh, well, mine was better.

Walks away.

A young, college-age guy in casual clothes with sunglasses walks up to the sculpture. Frank approaches the sculpture and stands next to him for a moment as if he is solely interested in the art.

FRANK:

Hey, man, can I ask you a question?

BRIAN:

Slightly uncomfortable.

Uh, sure.

FRANK:

Intense.

Why do you come to look at art? What compels you to come here when there's so much else to do?

BRIAN:

Well, I got a big-ass sunburn yesterday, so I can't go to the beach. I'm supposed to stay inside all day today. I had to take one of those oatmeal baths and our hotel bath is so tiny. I could barely fit my tall ass in there all at once.

FRANK:

Now Frank is the uncomfortable one.

Uh, that's rough dude. Sorry.

Brian walks away. Frank stands staring straight forward for a moment because all of his questions remain unanswered. After a few moments a couple walks up. They are in their mid-thirties and are obviously wealthy. They walk up powerfully and ignore Frank's presence.

MR. FRONSBRIDGE:

Now this is a lovely piece, darling. It would go perfectly in the study.

MRS. FRONSBRIDGE:

Vincent, I don't want another sculpture from this same museum. Can't we expand our horizons a bit.

MR. FRONSBRIDGE:

I'm not against the idea, I just like the overall style of works they have here although the prices are a little steep.

MRS. FRONSBRIDGE:

What does the price matter when it's artwork?

FRANK:

Why do you say that?

They both react in shock as they realize that he is in their world.

MRS. FRONSBRIDGE:

I beg your pardon?

FRANK:

Why doesn't it matter how much art costs? What is it that makes it so expensive anyway?

MRS. FRONSBRIDGE:

I don't know.

FRANK:

You don't know why you're paying so much?

MRS. FRONSBRIDGE:

Well, I suppose we pay because the artist pours all of his creative energies into the piece. It must be very hard work.

FRANK:

So you're paying him to work?

MRS. FRONSBRIDGE:

In a sense, yes.

FRANK:

So, say, for example, this piece took him 20 hours. If you pay forty thousand dollars for it, that's 2,000 dollars an hour. Do you make that much?

MR. FRONSBRIDGE:

Well, no, I'm afraid not.

FRANK:

So, why do you pay him more than you make yourself? What makes you buy art?

MR. FRONSBRIDGE:

It's for the house.

FRANK:

But why do you want it in your house?

MRS. FRONSBRIDGE:

Because the mark of a nice home is unique and expensive artwork. People are constantly judging you on your home.

FRANK:

So you're buying people's good opinion?

MRS. FRONSBRIDGE:

What? How dare you! You're a young adult, I'd think you'd know better than to be so rude to a complete stranger! You see Vincent? I told you I didn't want to come to this gallery.

Mr. Fronsbridge casts Frank a contemptuous look as they walk away. A well dressed but casual man comes and stands next to Frank. He exudes a certain artistic quality.

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

You've been looking at this peace for a while young man.

FRANK:

Yeah. I like coming to look at art, although it makes my own sketches seem weak in comparison.

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Yes, yes. I come to Carmel just for the art. I love this museum.

FRANK:

Are you an artist too?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

No, no, I'm just a great appreciator, in fact, I consider myself somewhat of an amateur critic. And I love this piece.

FRANK:

What makes it so great?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Well, art has to start with a good artist, and Libberton is a genius.

FRANK:

But even a great artist can make a piece of crap, can't he?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Well, yes, I suppose so...

FRANK:

Then what makes this one good?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Just look at it!

FRANK:

I am. It could be just a rock. What is it that makes it a brilliant work of art?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Just look at the beauty of the stone.

FRANK:

But did Libberton make the stone?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

What kind of question is that? Of course he didn't make the stone. Do you think I'm an idiot?

FRANK:

No, I'm just trying to understand why what Libberton did with an already beautiful stone makes us pause and contemplate and admire it as art.

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Look at how smooth and well shaped it is. That requires a true artist.

FRANK:

I have a well shaped marble table at home. Is that art?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

No! it's insulting to even place them in the same category. Your table is made with good craftsmanship. Art is a very different thing.

FRANK:

How so?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

A sculpture is...it's abstract.

FRANK:

What does that mean?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

It's unusual, unique-

FRANK:

So unusual things are artistic?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

That's not the only criteria, but yes, art is always slightly out of the ordinary, especially sculpture. That's why I prefer sculpture.

FRANK:

I made a bunch of clay sculptures when I was a kid. They were supposed to be ashtrays, but they weren't much more than weird lumps. But they were unusual, can I bring them in and display them next to this?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Of course not!

FRANK:

Why?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Because you were just a silly child, you weren't creating art.

FRANK:

So an artist knows he's creating art?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Yes, he has a vision for it, an inspiration.

FRANK:

What kind of visions and inspiration?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

I don't know, I'm not an artist.

FRANK:

But you claim to know what art is and that inspiration is the basis, so you must know what kind of inspirations or visions lead to good art.

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Well, I don't.

FRANK:

How can you be such a big fan of art, coming down here just to see it, when you don't even know what art is?

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

You seem to spend a lot of time in the art museum also. Do you know what art is?

FRANK:

That is precisely what I came here to learn from persons such as yourself, well-versed in the qualities and critiques of art.

MR. EUTHYPHRO:

Annoyed and bitterly sarcastic.

Well, sorry I couldn't be a bigger help.

FRANK:

I'm sorry too.

Utterly insulted Mr. Euthyphro turns on his heel and rapidly exits the art museum.

FRANK:

To himself. Doesn't anyone around here truly understand and appreciate art?

CURATOR:

Overhears Frank.

You'd be surprised.

FRANK:

Huh, surprised about what?

CURATOR:

At how many people come in here to say they went to an art museum without every really knowing what they're looking at. Pause. But, I'm afraid we're closing early today. My neighbor is hosting a party.

FRANK:

Hey, do you have an extra display stand lying around here anywhere?

CURATOR:

Yes, why?

FRANK:

Do you think I could try a little experiment with it tomorrow?

CURATOR:

Looks at him knowingly. Sure, I'll set it out for you.

FRANK:

Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow.

Scene 7

Frank's hotel room. The family is dressed like they just woke up, while Frank is bustling around, fully dressed and energetic, and getting ready to leave. He rushes over to the table with the hotel amenities and grabs the stack of cups. They are individually wrapped, so he has to tear the plastic off. When he is finished, he looks at them a moment and then contemplates where to get a few more. He rushes over to the door and looks down the hallway, where a maid is standing a few doors away.

FRANK:

Ah, perfect. Almost out the door.

MOM:

Where are you off to in such a rush? Can't you spend at least a little time with the family?

FRANK:

I can't, Mom. I've got something important to do at the museum today. Rushes out.

MOM:

Maybe we'll have to stop by and see what is so great at that museum.

DAD:

Sleepily. Yeah, sure, whatever you say dear.

Scene 8

The museum. Frank sees his empty display set up near the Libberton exhibit. He still has the cups in his hands, six in all. He walks over to it and begins to stack the cups in a pyramid: three on the bottom, then two, then one on top. When he is done he surveys his work for a moment and then steps back to observe people's reactions. The first few people simply look at it and move on but after a few minutes a family walks up to it. They are dressed in jeans and ratty T-shirts; they look like small-town Midwesterners. They stare at it for a few moments, trying to take it all in.

MA:

Those artists these days, you never know what they'll come up with.

Son:

Hey, Ma, I could make that!

They move on. After a few more people stop and look, but stay for only a moment. Then a hip young couple approaches.

Don:

What an interesting piece.

AYLA:

It's very innovative.

DON:

It's genius. So powerful in its simplicity.

AYLA:

And just look at the composition. Dynamic and yet subdued.

DON:

He hasn't even named it or labeled it in any way.

AYLA:

Probably a statement about the loss of identity in today's commercial, Styrofoam society.

DON:

Fascinating.

They leave. Frank merely smiles to himself and shakes his head. The curator walks up.

CURATOR:

How is the exhibit going?

FRANK:

Heavily ironic. I've had some positive and negative feedback, but I can't take it all too seriously or it might damage my creative intuition.

They both laugh. Frank's family comes in.

DAD:

Waving. Hey, Frank.

They approach him and the curator.

MOM:

So, you look like you're having fun. I would never have considered this a funny kind of place.

FRANK:

Oh, it was nothing. Still smiling slightly.

MOM:

Well, we were going to hit the beach one last time if you want to come. Please, just this once?

FRANK:

Okay, I'll come. To the curator. Thanks for everything.

CURATOR:

Don't mention it. It was refreshing to meet someone who knows what he's looking at. Turns and leaves.

DAD:

Looking slightly confused. Well, he seems like an interesting fellow. Motioning to the door. Shall we go? Everyone agrees. As they leave Dad looks over the exhibit and points at Frank's prank. Hey, that's a nice sculpture.