Page 105 of Make Me Scream

Wary, I match his pace, staying out of arm’s reach. We walk a few blocks down Broadway until Mundell spots a wall scribbled with graffiti tags.

“You see that, Ms. Carpenter?”

“Sure.”

“Some people see this as vandalism, some see it as art. Which would you say it is?”

One tag readsJoat!in blocky, cartoonish yellow lettering with purple shadowing. Others are swooshy, swirling marks barely legible, more insignia than signature. I think about my answer for a minute.

“I’d say it’s both.”

Mundell smirks and replies, “Explain.”

“Well, unless they were commissioned by the property owner, which I doubt, then legally it’s vandalism — graffiti. But unless the person who painted these had a gun to their head forcing them to do it, they were engaging in an act of self-expression, rather than self-preservation. That’s what art is at its core, isn’t it?”

He nods.

“To some, that is absolutely correct. I like to hold the bar for art a bit higher. I’ve seen incredible street art, from Shoreditch to Stavenger. That’s one thing. What we see here, to me, is the artistic equivalent of shouting one’s name. Hardly meaningful. At least if they were actually shouting, we would all understand — but only a select group can comprehend these tags. Who is Joat? We don’t know. What will the average person get from this? That there’s someone or something out there called Joat.”

“Okay,” I mumble.

“Now, you take a piece of real art — for instance, the work of Mr. Franklin. Last night he wowed the Gallery Madrigal, but one need not be a connoisseur of fine art to see its beauty. Anyone with a beating heart would be moved by them.”

“Sure. But is there something wrong with art that has a small audience?”

“No, of course not,” Mundell says. “My point is that there’s nothing inherently special about using bricks and concrete walls as a canvas. When you came out here in that horrific wedding dress, you got some attention. The videos got you more. But, the world quickly moved on. There’s always a new oddity in New York, another video sensation on the Internet. How many people thought about it a second time since? Compare that to when you finishThe Ohio Zooand it’s published. People will read it and remember it. They’ll talk about it with friends, maybe even discuss it in classes someday.”

I hide a smirk, imagining all the ways Lane would call bullshit. Mundell’s not wrong that Internet fame can be fleeting, but it can also be powerful — and influential, and inspirational. What makes a piece of art that is seen by millions across centuries artistically better than one seen by a single person? Is a larger scope inherently better than a smaller one?

“With all due respect,” I say, “people talk about Alistair Rat in classes.”

“Not at my school, Ms. Carpenter. Not at my school.”

“I think it’s time for me to go, Professor,” I say, already turning around.

“You could work for me.”

I pause.

“What?”

“That’s how I could pay your expenses and not have it look suspicious,” Mundell says, walking toward me.

“I have a job already.”

“This would be better. Have you ever been to the Catskills?”

I laugh. Oh yes, my family drove out from Ohio to stay in our summer chalet.

“No. Why?”

He passes me and keeps going, setting a pace that forces me to keep up.

“I have a vacation home there that requires regular upkeep,” he says. “I would pay you to visit it on weekends and do the work. The pay would be enough that you could quit your other job, and you’d be able to enjoy the amenities of a beautiful home in the mountains. You could even bring friends there, provided you cleaned up after yourselves.”

Damn. That’s the last kind of offer I expected, though of course a man like Mundell has a vacation home. Why wouldn’t he?

“I don’t have a car, how would I get there?” I ask.

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