Imagine there’s a famous art endowment. Let’s call it the World Artist Limitless Trust.
The Trust’s mission is to support new, groundbreaking work.
They give financial grants to artists, musicians, dancers, sculptors, chefs, actors,
and whatever other creatives produce groundbreaking work. Every few years, they
commission art with a specific theme. Every few years, they pick two artists from
different fields and give them a grant to work together.
Sometimes their grants help inspire something new and
exciting. People flock from around the world to see these new works.
Sometimes the projects fall flat. The reviews are bad. Few
people go to see it.
The Trust has a board of directors who are supposed to manage
everything, but mostly the big decisions are made by a single president. Let’s
call him Bob, because that’s his name. Bob did a good job running the Trust. Most
of the art he chose to commission was successful, at least in terms of ticket
sales and reviews. The Board only cared about number of tickets and quality of
reviews.
One day, Bob decides to retire. He’s getting older and, like
most old people, he’s putting himself in suspended animation so he can be resurrected
in the future. He picks a new president, waves everyone goodbye, and steps into
a display freezer in his garage.
His successor gives him a final wave goodbye through the
glass and gets to work.
The new president’s name is, coincidentally, also Bob. Let’s
call him Bob 2. Bob 2’s been working at the Trust for decades. He’s proven
himself smart, reliable, and talented.
Plus, the Trust is doing well. Many of their acclaimed works
are open around the world. Many more are in various stages of completion. All
Bob 2 has to do is keep everything on an even keel. Find new creators and give
them grants. Make sure existing projects are moving forward.
But Bob 2 is afflicted with the worst kind of mental
illness: he has a vision.
Instead of parceling out the money on dozens of different
projects to dozens of different artists, Bob 2 wants to get them all together
for one project.
One project with all the money.
It would be a massive experience like the world had never
seen. It would combine music, light, games, theater, food, perfumes, psychedelics,
and several other art forms invented just for this project. It would combine every
artistic genre into a single, perfect experience.
The work was daunting. It would take a thousand craftspeople
a million hours to build. It required the development of cutting edge
technologies, the discovery of ancient techniques, and a specially-trained crew
to maintain it all.
It cost the entire budget of the World Artist Limitless
Trust. And then some.
The Board was skeptical, but they trusted him. He’d proven
himself before. Yes, it was risky, but it was also brilliant, revolutionary,
world-changing. They agreed, and the project was built. It was opened to huge
fanfare. The doors opened.
Nobody went. It was a total failure.
A lot of factors were blamed. It was hard to get to the
installation. You had to show 16 forms of ID. You needed a special car to get there.
Someone started a war. There was a plague. An earthquake. Dragons.
A few people finally did go. Those who did were dazzled,
describing it as one of the greatest experiences of their lives. Bob 2 and the Board
wait and wait, hoping word of mouth will spur more reviews, more ticket sales.
But month after month, nobody goes.
Finally, the Board has had enough. They send someone back to
old Bob’s house to unplug his freezer. Bewildered, thinking the future a big
disappointment, the original Bob takes over the Trust again. His first act: tearing
apart Bob 2’s big project.
It won’t be completely destroyed, Bob assures Bob 2. The “good
parts” will be separated into different art pieces. They’ll be placed in areas
that will be easier for people to get to.
“But the point is how it all fits together!” Bob 2 said. “The
point is the whole experience!”
Bob smiles condescendingly and pushes Bob 2 into a freezer.
Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser Hotel will close permanently
at the end of this month.