Woodleaf holds a press conference to announce he has decided to become an artist, but the only person who shows up is the ever-faithful Girl Reporter.
Girl Reporter: Dr. Woodleaf, you have called us all here today to unveil your first work offered for public consumption.
Woodleaf: Thank you for recalling that I have a PhD in advanced musical composition.
Girl Reporter: How could I ever forget?
Woodleaf removes the cloth covering the large cardboard poster board with his work.
Woodleaf: My eponymous debut to the Art World is called “Bow Down to Woodleaf.”
My second work is called “He killed her cat.”
(Deleted by Peta)
Girl Reporter: Did you really kill your girlfriend’s cat when she left you, after you refused to call 911 when she was dying?
Woodleaf: I can’t deny it.
Bob Nelson walks into the room interrupting Woodleaf before he can continue.
Bob Nelson: Woodleaf! It is time for your shameless appropriations to stop! You know, very well, I coined the phrase “Bow Down to Bob” in the 80’s on my college radio show way before you ever started using it.
Woodleaf: (with forced calm over his minor annoyance) Oh, it’s you Bob Nelson; always raining on someone else’s parade. Why don’t you go bother Dr. Evil? I heard he’s in town. You can’t prove you coined the phrase “Bow Down”.
Bob Nelson: (satirically) Oh, excuse me! I see you really packed the room. What happened to Macy your Agent/Manager/Media Rep?
Woodleaf: She did not come, because I did not tell her about the event. I did not tell anyone about it or publicized it in any way. Later it shall be reported (by the Girl Report) that several hundred people turned out. But since you came, I can’t let you leave here alive.
Bob Nelson starts to back away and look nervously around for the nearest exit.
Woodleaf: I’ve locked all the doors. There will be no leaving.
Heidi Manyhats comes into the room.
Heidi: Woodleaf! I have all of these empty oatmeal cardboard canisters which you promised to cut holes in so we could sell hats shaped like the Dreamachine in my Etsy Shop. My apartment was so filled with them that I got evicted and now I’m homeless in San Francisco, and this is all your fault.
“How are all these people getting into the old high school gymnasium?” Woodleaf thinks to himself.
Woodleaf: No need to panic. I will address all your questions in time. Heidi, now that I am an artist I will not no longer be able to cut out circles in cardboard. I must preserve my artistic hands.
Heidi: So, what are you saying? You are washing your hands of the project? It was your idea to begin with.
Woodleaf: You were not supposed to take it seriously. Can’t you see all my stuff is a joke, except for my artworks which I am showing today. Moving along…
Bob Nelson: Wait a minute! This pretty lady can stay with me, provided we get out of here alive. Woodleaf, leaving is our only priority at this juncture. May we go?
Woodleaf: Yes, you can leave at once! I will unlock the door. Just don’t write about this on social media. I wish to continue my Press Conference with GR in peace.
Bob Nelson and Heidi leave
Woodleaf: (Feeling back in the pink) My next work is called “My Family as Salt Vampires.” I drew my family with large sagging eyes and open mouths.
Girl Reporter: What is the meaning of this work?
Woodleaf: My family won’t support me or my art so I put these drawings online to annoy them. If they were to call me to ask me to remove them, I would pretend to be offended, but I would know that they had at least seen them. I have had many careers and vocations, but none of them resulted in monetary gain. That is why I have the donation button on my website. I placed the button near the top in case people just wanted to donate without looking at the artworks. My artworks are not for sale, but people can donate to me so I may continue to produce more artworks in the future. But, if no one donates I will somehow get by on my disability checks. I am a writer without publication. A conductor who never conducts. A composer who has not not composed in a very long time. I would be willing to conduct or create musical compositions, but my scores all say “just improvise” on them. Being an artist was the natural extension of my having exhausted other possibilities and growing bored with them. I am interested in using ready made signs to get my point across. Are you writing all of this down?
Girl Reporter: No, I forgot bring stuff to write with. I will remember it, don’t worry.
Woodleaf: And this brings me to my next work. It’s a photo of a blank book open to the middle and in the center page I have carelessly scribbled the words “Just write the book yourself.” This serves to open the viewers minds to creativity.
My works are not really about me; they are about the reaction they created in you. Does anyone know anything? Does anything matter at all? These are all questions the audience (of my works) must wrestle with and come to their own answers.
This next drawing was not drawn by me, but my one of my young and impressionable acolytes.
(deleted due to public outcry)
Girl Reporter: Did you draw that yourself?
Woodleaf: No, I did not. Why would you think that?
Girl Reporter: You tend to credit your major works to someone else. That someone could be chosen at random, or a made up name, or someone who either has or does not have some connection to you.
Woodleaf: It’s because of my great modesty. I like to push things out there, and later if I decide they are successful, I will take credit for them, as you know.
Girl Reporter: So this one is really drawn by you?
Woodleaf: No, this was drawn by one of my many admirers. He wishes to remain anonymous. We bonded together over our support of North Korea.
Girl Reporter: I seem to recall he had the North Korea idea and you took it from him. Do you recall your begonia growing phrase in which you wanted to grow a particular begonia grown only in North Korea that looks just like a regular begonia?
Woodleaf: I don’t remember. I was doing a lot of nitrous oxide, and it may have erased the memory. I gave up growing begonias when the tubers developed a fungal rot that liquefied them. The liquid sunk into the ground and was then decomposed into the natural environment. I, like Charles Manson, I became an environmentalist. This work was inspired by the letterhead I sent out to ask people to join me at the now defunct Stud Bar in San Francisco for a very special event.
Woodleaf’s Letterhead Original (deleted by censorship of media)
Notes: The Prisoners of Castle Fluffy Clouds changed the banner that read “Dada Fest” to one that read “Help Me.” The letterhead was posted online as part of the event promotion. This may have been what attracted the Alien to Castle Fluffy Clouds where he stayed for a while.
Woodleaf: At a future time, I will be unveiling my newest “Sculpture, Stop! Call The Police!”
Girl Reporter: Thank you so much for sharing your art with us.
Woodleaf: It has been my pleasure!