Rodent Art

   Robert Reich's mention of "the food chain" in the garment
   industry, inspires this report on the food chain in the
   NY-artist vanity dominion.

   We've been architect for eight years on an artist's loft in
   Tribeca, home and studio of a world-class very heavy metal
   sculptor, a well-respected but poor computer music
   composer, two fake-artists who weasled past the Artist-In-
   Residence requirements, a street level gallery, and two
   ever-changing artists illegally working in the cellar. A
   common tableau.

   Slowly we've been upgrading the pile to meet safety, health
   and construction codes, gradually eliminating deficiencies
   listed in a first-step survey. Hazardous conditions have
   been highlighted, but not corrected, as also common in this
   real-estate-midden -- good god, first improve the
superficial
   amenities, the market-pumping features. Hazards to the
   artists in the cellar have been especially red-flagged, and
   the victims have been safety-preached by us.

   (We beaverly used our anti-architecture electro-demolition
   hammer to gnaw a safe second exit at the rear, and stashed
   a ladder for fleeing the pit.)

   The cellar artists said they were grateful for the cheap
   space, bobbed at our alarms, and continued feverish
   artwork. One has gone on to recent fame and the Venice
   Biennial, and a FNG has just happily moved in.

   All construction work has been done by illegal immigrant
   workers -- their employers submitted unrefusable bids. They
   have done excellent work, none English-speaking, all
   were scarred and missing body parts and good-humored at
   having work paid at near-prevailing rates and mandated
   benefits.

   Famous Artist is indifferent to this Darwinian, Malthusian,
   Dickensian, foofah, drama, pays his bills promptly, scowls
   for the camera and reigns at the top of the food chain --
   for now -- for the cellar rats are doing amazing work that
   makes his look quaint.

   We archi-rodents admire his artful growling and protecting
   his rep while eyeballing his double-floor, 10,000sf loft
   handsomely designed by a Famous Architect.

   Ahem, our work on behalf of these Famous artful poseurs is
   also amazingly different from theirs, camouflaged
   meticulously against their superpower-critic attack, and we
   couldn't be happier about hiding at the bottom of the food
   chain, chomping our way up surreptiously, thriving sub-rosa
   on their benevolent fees and vain indifference to our mega-
   vain designs to undermine the superstructure, like the
illegal
   rodents who pantomimed-lower-educated us.