Toad has come along to one of Sara, Scott or anyone else’s art showings, and in this circle, his mannerisms seem to have accidentally passed him off as an expert or art critic. He’s having fun, and the artist is not sure whether to laugh at how the rich folk are swallowing all of it and buying the work, or cry at how wrong he is about certain bits.
It was one of Sara’s ‘sideshow’ pieces she called The Abyss. It used mirrors to create the illusion of an endless gulf, and secret sensors to detect how long someone had been staring into it before another hidden mechanism activated a pair of eyes… watching the watcher.
Todd stared into it long enough for it to stare back, and chuckled briefly at the very Sara sense of humour involved.
The next piece along was a series of studies. Self-portraits through time. Collaged in such a way as to give the illusion of both motion and three dimensions. Which was quite a trick, because the self-portraits involved started way back before kindergarten.
And -yes- there was a photo of that self-portrait. It was still behind a discretionary curtain in another corner. This work censored it with another self-portrait covering up the non-existent naughty bits.
Sahra had been honest, sometimes cruelly so, in her self-images. The final one in this frame was an homage to Norman Rockwell, with herself in uniform and aqua skin painting the self that everyone saw every day.
He moved on, nodding at the line of folks seeking to peek beyond the curtain, to the kinetic sculpture and the room of sounds.
Kids were going insane in the room of sounds. Every noise they made splashed across the walls and ceiling as vivid colour and shape. It was called Synaesthesia, but everyone who went there asked for the room of sounds.
And, regardless of the kids’ whooping and hollering, someone was watching what it looked like when they sang.
Todd noticed he had a small group of followers. Hipsters, if he was any judge. Half of them were texting.
He raised an eyebrow, “Can I help you?”
"Isn’t the room of sounds an abomination against the nature of Art?" said the spokester.
“Synaesthesia,” Todd corrected, “is an exploration in interactivity creating art of the moment. By giving a tool to the common throng, as it were, the artist invites others to become artists by using themselves as part of the medium.”
It was almost ad copy from the placards outside of the doors, but the Hipsters swallowed it. Hook, line and sinker.
"And the tragic seesaw?" said a creature of black dye and multiple piercings.
“Entropy is a study in balance and movement, carefully constructed to give the illusion of frailty whilst being near-indestructible. No doubt you’ve discovered the least breeze sets it moving?”
"It has motors in it to make sure it never stops," sneered a goth hipster.
"No motors at all. There should be gloves nearby for those who want to try and stop it. You’ll find it tricky, though. The sculpture generates its own breezes."
That, and Sara thoughtfully parked it under an AC vent, so it would always be moving. She never stopped giggling at the people attempting to stop it to find out where the motors were.
"You talk like you made it," noted a grunge hipster.
"No, but I am familiar with the artist’s works. You should try discovering a few things about the pieces before you critique them so… minimally."
They scattered. Todd turned to find Sara spraining something with the effort to not laugh.
"Always gotta run away from th’ source of truth."
"If I didn’t have so much to do, I’d have a performance piece entitled, ‘Ask a Rude Question, Get an Honest Answer’,” Sara rolled her eyes at the hipsters. “They think you’re a famous art critic, by the by.”
Todd shrugged. He wore black because it was easier, some days, to not have to worry about what to wear. He had been appreciating the art, which anyone could do. And he’d been looking thoughtful and hemming a lot. “That’s their problem,” he announced.
"Lunch?"
"My thoughts exactly," he grinned.
Behind them, the hipsters were having a chicken fight with Entropy, in an effort to catch all the swinging, dipping, and swaying parts. The cameras would catch it all for Sara’s later amusement.