India rested her back against the island in the centre of the kitchen and listened.
Jackson De Javu continued.
“When Hemingway wrote, ‘For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.’ I don’t think it was the first piece of flash fiction, he just lifted those words from a small ad in a newspaper. A recycled story, done for a bet. Not original.”
Jack opened two more beers. He placed the two empty bottles along the work surface to the left of the sink, lining them up like guardsmen on parade. Twelve in total. He snapped them on his iPhone. Underneath the image he typed the legend, ‘Beer: two people, drunk.’ Pressed send and zapped it to two hundred and eighty-nine people.
A torrent of expletives shot back.
He said, “Whatever Hemingway can do in six words, I can do in four. And whatever Warhol can do with soup cans, I can do with beer bottles.”
India said, “Warhol again. What’s the matter with you, Jack?”
“Warhol was the hero of modernism. Liberating those images of soup cans from a supermarket shelf and recycling them. The apparent repetition of the soup cans legitimises them. However, each image is unique like the consumers who bought the soup, they tell the story of commercial art being used to sell consumer products which produce a small profit per unit; followed by the subversion of commercial art, back to original art. Generating huge profits. Challenging the art establishment, mocking convention; the evolutional development of a new art movement from recycled commercial art. The birth of Pop-Art. The American dream, defined, redefined, restated and legitimised.”
“Jesus Christ, Jack. Stop it. You’ve told me that shit five times already today? I just need a fuck … Now!”
published 20 June 2015