Deep Dark

1

What's your first memory?

Here's mine, ready?

All my life, I knew I was

destined for one thing.

To be a great artist.

From the very beginning, I knew

exactly what my medium would be

and I knew, with every

fiber of my being

that... that my

creations were going

to be tremendous works of art.

They'd touch people in

the deepest of ways,

make them see

things differently,

see themselves differently.

Make them say to each other,

"this here, this

is truly great."

But somehow,

something, somewhere

along the way went, I

don't know,...Wrong.

Herman!

It's 3:
00 in the morning,

what are you doing?

Mom, I'm working!

Lady, I would just prefer to

show my work to

Ms. Klein herself.

Look, if you want

Ms. Klein to see it,

it has to go through me first.

That's just how it works.

Fine, okay.

It's a commentary

on how our country's

eco-imperialist policies

directly correlate

to the rise of carbon monoxide

in the earth's atmosphere.

It's a mobile.

I'm making your favorite.

I think you spend too

much time down there.

You need to get out more.

I need to work.

What work?

You don't work.

If I had a job, then when

would I have time

for my art, mom?

Besides, making mobiles is the

only thing that I'm good at.

Maybe it's time you

found something else.

What do you want me to do, huh?

You want me to quit?

Oh, Hermann.

Bring me the skins,

will you, dear?

What about your uncle?

He can give you

some good advice.

Why don't you call him?

Uncle Felix?

Crazy uncle Felix, who

makes jewelry out of shells?

What?

Come on.

What "come on"?

He make beautiful earrings, see?

He doesn't even

make those himself.

He exploits these poor

villagers to do it.

He exploits them, he

pays them pennies,

and then he turns around and

he sells his art for hundreds.

He's a total hack.

You show respect.

Ever since your father died he

sent a check every Christmas.

He's a good man.

He's a hack.

Helps with the bills

more than you do.

I'm not calling him, okay?

I'm just saying for

your own good, Hermann!

You know, you're not

getting any younger.

Can you crank, dear?

Hermann.

Joel, where's your piece?

- Not finished yet.

- Pfft.

I know what you're thinking.

You see, it's all part

of my new technique.

I call it "instantaneous art."

The whole notion of

the tortured artist

investing months in one piece.

It just seems so... Historic.

You don't have a piece, do you?

You ever been

struck by lightning?

Great art is like lightning.

It's effortless, only

takes an instant to create.

And when it hits you, wham!

Know what I mean?

Pretty pictures!

Pretty pictures!

Hiya, chief.

I didn't know you had

a showroom in this neighborhood.

I branched out.

Want me to try selling

some of your work?

You get a fair cut.

Yeah, I make real art,

not, uh, whatever this is.

Oh, I see, you make real art.

I ever tell you about

my friend Marlon?

Have a seat, chief.

Marlon was a painter,

poor son of a b*tch.

He was convinced he

was the next Kandinsky.

Only it turns out, he couldn't

paint worth half a damn.

I mean, it's plain to

everybody he stinks.

Only no one has the guts

to tell him, you know?

Sure.

So the guy struggles

his whole life.

Only it's not working,

he can't sell a thing.

Ate his insides out.

One day, he comes by talking

about some lizard he found.

He got obsessed with

the way they can

break off their tails, you know,

to escape from danger.

Survival mechanism.

Anyway, it must

have got to where

he couldn't take it anymore.

So one day, he just snapped.

Took out a pair of

garden shears and

cut his fingers clean

off, all of them.

I guess he just needed

to stop the pain.

Anyway, he's a lot happier now.

His brother takes care of him.

He gets monthly checks from

the government, no biggie.

I could never sell

his stuff anyway.

Mom?

Oh, hey, you must be Hermann.

Did not wake you, did I?

There's a man in my bathroom.

Oh, that's Mr. Shariff.

He says he always tests a

shower before renting a place.

You're renting out my room?

Hermann, we need the money.

But where will I sleep?

With me, we'll be like roomies.

I love it, Zig, I'll take it.

Who is this?

Hey, uncle Felix, it's Hermann.

Hermann who? I

don't know any...

oh, of course, Jackie's kid.

Well, ain't that a

kick in the pants.

How the hell are ya?

How's your mom?

Fine, uh, listen,

uncle Felix, I was...

hey, bun-bun, rum gimlet!

I, um, I was hoping I could

ask you for some advice.

Um, you know, on account of

you being a successful artist.

Um, oh, yeah, I get by.

Yeah, it's just

I'm an artist too.

And it's just not working out.

Hm, oh yeah?

Yeah, and I have the chops.

I mean, that's... that's not it.

It's just that something's

wrong, you know?

Like something's missing.

Stop right there.

I had the same problem

when I was starting out.

- You did?

- Absolutely!

Let me guess, you feel like

something's just not right.

Like there's this nebulous

dark cloud surrounding you.

Am I right, or am I right?

Yeah, yeah.

Are you all wound up tight?

Feelings of apathy,

depression, trouble sleeping?

Yeah.

Yup, I went through

the same thing.

I know exactly what you need.

You do? What?

Take down this address,

my old studio apartment.

Uh, okay, you

want me to go there?

Dammit, I want

you to live there.

What you need is your own

space to work, uninhibited.

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