I never thought I was going to get thrown in jail for it. I mean it all started out so innocently, and when I was young. I had an aunt before she killed herself. Anyways, she was an artist and she gave me this gift for my thirteenth birthday wrapped in bumblebee wrapping paper. It was a book on Impressionist paintings and from the start, Van Gogh blew me away. Yeah, Monet was cool, and so was Renoir, those guys knew their stuff but Van Gogh had this dogmatic stroke that look anal an repetitive at times but it seeped into me. I saw what he was painting, where I could actually get glimpses of the day or the scene he was painting. This was before I started taking drugs too, so you can imagine the impact it had the first time I ate some mushrooms and came home and looked at his paintings. They breathed on me. My room was covered with cut off pictures of his work and when I turned eighteen, I drove out here from Addison, Texas. It’s a suburb of Dallas and it didn’t have what I needed. I needed the Van Gogh’s and it just so happened that was when the Van Gogh exhibit was in LA. If it had been in New York or San Francisco, I’d be there right now, probably explaining to different cops what I was doing in a museum at four in the morning. Stop looking at me like that.

So Anyways, I’m eighteen and I got out here in a car that was on its last legs and but she still worked. Two months after being here, the exhibit actually comes after it had been talked about for so long and I was determined to see it so I got a ticket for tonight. I guess you guys already figured that one out, eh? It was for the last show of the day and I brought a pocket book, see? Tortilla Flat by Steinbeck. Has either of you read it? You should, it’s really good. I was planning on getting my first glimpse of them with everyone else and it was crowded. I felt like a refined animal, shuffling through the culture as if it was Disneyland, which was fantastic if you’ve never been. I had a good time there but so after the exhibit, I walked around the rest of the museum, acting interested in Indian artifacts and Chinese pottery. Don’t get me wrong, there was cool stuff there but they sure as hell weren’t no Van Gogh’s, ya know? Finally, around nine o’clock, it was getting to be time to leave and I went into a bathroom and hid. I stood up on the toilet and squatted, reading my book and being quiet. It takes a lot of effort to be quiet, you’d never think so but when the security guards came by to make their rounds, I took a chance that they would be lazy, and as we can see now, I was right. I got through almost the whole book and at midnight, I thought it would be ok. I tiptoed out into the hallways and didn’t see anyone. I came up to the Van Gogh room and looked for cameras, to make sure I wouldn’t get busted so easily. Woops! (laughter on tape). Well, so I go around the corner, I got my flashlight and probably looked like a two-bit criminal after a two-bit jewel. The hallways were dark and shiny and as I passed the souvenir shop, I saw my jewels. As I figured, it was dark in there and I was glad I had my flashlight. The first painting I saw was illuminated fiercely as I focused on it. The colors were thick and swirling and I could actually imagine Van Gogh’s frantic fingers trying to get his thought onto the canvas. I cracked one of my beers. It was a Heineken to celebrate my Dutch friend. Oh, you found the rest? Do I get them back or do you guys get them? Huh? Can I smoke in here? Cool, I need a light. Thanks. Wow, I’ve never had handcuffs on before, have you? Oh, sorry, so anyways it was so cool. The paintings were mine. There were no art wannabes pushing me around culture whoremongers bumping into me. I owned them, so I moved slowly and I was on my third painting and then I found out there was glass on them. Once I noticed it, it was so obvious and it kind of pissed me off and that’s when I had the bad idea of breaking the glass. How can you see a piece of work like those and have a piece of glass in the way? What? Oh, I broke it with my mini-mag. I di push the glass into a pile though, does that help? Oh. The painting that put me over the top was uh, Wheatfield With Crows. Have you guys seen that one? Man, the yellows and blues just screamed at me. And the crows too, they were so awesome. I actually saw the moment that inspired the painting, like a flash of it. I think that’s when I dropped my beer. You should have heard how loud it was. I swear I almost shit my pants. I probably should have left them but there were so many more to see. That’s about when I heard you guys coming around the corner. Hey, weren’t you supposed to ask me if I wanted a lawyer? You did? Oh. (Three second pause on tape). What did I say? I did? Damn, I must be more sober than I was then. What do you think? No, come on, what do you think? Nope, that’s just about it. Don’t I get my one phone call? I did? Who did I call? I did?

--transcribed confession of Terrence Avery