07 November 2014
Another Fake Interview: Satyricon Krausfyre
"Spartacus Chetwynd's art is rumbustious, bonkers, daft and discombobulating. It is like being hit over the head with a pig's bladder."
–Adrian Searle, who presumably keeps a pig's bladder on hand for purposes of comparison, in The Guardian
When I arrive at the earnest mansion currently being inhabited by the renowned artist Satyricon Krausfyre I am greeted in the drive by a cocker spaniel in bold modernist tradition and then taken by the hand by a fervent houseboy in lime-green pantaloons and guided into the foyer of what must be the most eclectic garage slash salon this side of Jasper Johns's. As I enter, two catastrophic insurance salesmen done in masterly brushstrokes take my hat and coat and offer me a martini in a bread bowl. Parrots perch high in the trees, huddled around a small television playing an old game show I am unable to identify but that's not Angie Dickinson is it? Ha! Such is the world of Satyricon Krausfyre.
Do you keep to any particular schedule Mr. Krausfyre?
I start each day by separating two eggs and beating the whites to stiff peak stage. When they are nice and frothy, I know I'm ready to be brilliant. I'll spend a few minutes staring into space and back again, doing some breathing exercises or excecuting a brief skip-to-m'lou 'round the ol' mulberry bush. I like cinnamon rolls but I don't like the glaze they put on them so I request no glaze, or if it comes with glaze I scrape most of it off, a little bit is okay. I don't eat one every day at 9:45 a.m., I'm not that rigid although I'm sure there are many who'd prefer to believe I am.
And then let me guess: you work through the morning, take a brief lunch around 12:30, a reasonably sized sandwich with a salad including fruit and a cookie, some iced tea, then maybe go through bills or administrivia or take a walk if you feel like it, or catnap ... work again for a few hours until the sun is low, then drink yourself into oblivion in preparation for doing it all over the next day?
My goodness me, aren't we the sassy scribe? Aren't we the little miss daisy pixie who knows aaall the answers before she asks the questions?
[Blushing scarlet.] Do you start with an idea and work towards its realization or do you just throw a bunch of shit down and then work backwards from what it comes out looking like to pretending you intended it that way … or is there some other way of doing art?
For me it's more a question of starting about two thirds of the way in and working outwards but sideways in sort of a spiral shape. I'm fractal like a pterodactyl. I think of every piece of art I create in the form of a radial with spokes, and my job after I locate the approximate center is merely to link up all the spokes and round off the rims so as to reinvent the proverbial wheel.
How can people who want to be more like you be more like you?
Imitation is a good start. But it must begin by imitating my thought processes, getting inside my skull and wrapping one's inner synapses round mine. Or they can buy my book, like I did.
We hear you have something interesting cooking in Belgium?
Yes, we are going to fill Zeebrugge Harbor with miniature balloons filled with tiny tortellinis, then release a flood of thousands of baby seals into the mess and kinda see what happens. As we withdraw we'll leave a trail of breadcrumbs all the way from Zeebrugge to Brugge, and any children foolish enough to follow this trail will be roasted alive in a devastating satire of witchcraft.
Any truth to the rumor that you'll be doing the voice of Denis O'Leary in an upcoming animated feature about the life and times of Boney McJoyless?
No truth pal.
What's next for Satyricon Krausfyre?
Huh? Whuzzat? Oh muffins I suppose. Or something with jam. Art-wise, I want to cover the Louvre in bright brown shaving cream and then sprinkle it with sea salt, so as to express, in the form of an existential meditation, my innermost longing for immortality, and pretzels.
Covering another building in yet another viscous substance … more macrame sculptures of cooking show hosts … doesn't it all seem a bit contrived?
Contrived? Of course it's contrived: I made it all up! What matters ultimately is how it's contrived, who contrived it and why, and what were the tax advantages of contriving it here as opposed to somewhere outside the greater metropolitan area.