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Link
Yaco! We don’t live
in the United States, we live... We had been invited to an opening and it was de rigeur to attend the reception afterwards. If you weren't seen there, it could blow your cover. We had to seem like we loved this stuff and these people, because some of them might become clients. So here we were with all these forty-somethings, aging Boomers, pretending to be un-aging rockers. We were jammed into this tiny, badly-lit club, and our un-aging bones were vibrating with the over-amplified club music that, frankly, I don't understand. But the young today do understand this music and we had to perpetuate the illusion that we were still young and we understood it too. This is the arts, baby, and art is a youth industry. I managed to snag a glass of lukewarm Chardonnay and a like-wise lukewarm sushi canapé. As I gobbled and gulped, I managed to ask Bucko, " Semiotic-deconstruction? What in the name of the great cat in the sky is that?" Bucko grinned in that lazy stoned fashion of his. "It's artspeak. It means the interpretation of signs and symbols. I like to do it with people." He looked me up and down. "You for instance. With those chinos, powder blue broadcloth shirt, and black canvas deck shoes. You're obviously an Ivy league wanna-be. A pseudo-intellectual. A cautious artiste." "Yeah," I agreed, "But you know me. That's easy. How about that one over there?" I wiggled my glass of cheap white toward one of the few twenty-somethings at this do. The young woman in question had blonde cornrows, a pierced nose, an acrylic tank-top, and these huge, ballooning denim pantaloons that looked like a mixture of what we used to call in the '70s, culottes and a maxi-dress. All this was bottomed off with enormous Lucite platform shoes. Bucko sized her up. "Well, the denim is what gives her away. She's from off the island. Denim, at least blue denim, isn't hip on the island. Other than that, she could pass for a trendy artsy type. Too trendy to be very academic. Those pants of hers are chic boutique for clubbers." I mulled. "Okay, I'll buy that. What about this guy? The one in the business suit? What can you possibly tell from a business suit?" Bucko chuckled. "There all sorts of suits. A real mid-town suit is black, maybe with pinstripes. Sometimes you can get away with slightly funky weave, but if you get into herringbone, then you're tagged as an academic. This guy has something that's almost a plaid. He's in sales or marketing. That gook he's got smeared on his thinning hair is supposed to be a hip touch. He likes to go to sports bars after working his twelve hour day and try to pick up women half his age." I nodded. It all made sense. "You think he ever scores?" "You kidding? This is Manhattan! The poor women here are desperate! He's single, hetereo, and has a job. If this were the '80s he'd probably have a coke habit, but it's the '90s, thank god, so he's drug-free. That makes him boyfriend material." "These poor women," I said with genuine sympathy. "Yep," agreed Bucko, "Too bad there aren't more SNAGs like us around." "SNAGs? Oh, right. I've heard this one before. Sensitive New Age Guys. So how does this semiotic-deconstruction apply to you?" I examined Bucko's Anglo-fro, bowling shirt, shapeless pants, and worn sneakers. Bucko raised an eyebrow over the rim of his wire-rim glasses. "Take a shot. What would you say?" I mulled again. "Well, I say you're a graphics designer by day and a bad artist by night. You're also a SNAG. Beyond that, I cannot say. Frankly, I don't get you." "I'm very mysterious," agreed Bucko.
Link Yaco has written comic books for several publishers. He is currently working on a couple comics-related paperbacks. He has been a copywriter, technical writer, newspaper journalist, and magazine entertainment writer. He has a Masters' degree in Telecommunications and was a technical manager at MIT for five years. Link lives in West Greenwich Village with his wife, Susannah, a Senior Vice President at an independent film company. Check out his web page here Read last week's column Visit Link Yaco Home Page COPYRIGHT 1999 LINK YACO. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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richard e. schiff,
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