Stanley Marsh's publicity agent is a man named LBK, who drives down the street to pick us up at at least 90 miles per hour. He is in his late 20s or early 30s, blonde, and wearing a striped yellow sweater that exactly matches the striped yellow pickup truck that he is driving. There is a plastic swan affixed to the top of the truck. I notice a rabbit-fur lined hoodie sitting next to me on the back seat and mention it; he tells me that he stole it from his roommate in rehab. We drive at breakneck speed down Amarillo roads, past anonymous office buildings. We pull off at Chase Bank, the tallest office tower downtown, which is confusing until LBK explains that Stanley Marsh's offices are on the top floor.
We pass through an expensive lobby and enter the red-carpeted elevator. On the way up, Brett asks LBK a serious question about the organizational structure of Stanley Marsh Enterprises. The reply leaves us with the impression that there isn't one. The top floor smells overwhelmingly of cigarette smoke and looks nothing like the rest of the building. There are giant canvases that look familiar – multiple Rothkos! A Jackson Pollock! - and on one side of the room, around 20 bean bag chairs that have been upholstered to look like pool balls. The bean bag chairs, we are informed, are so that they can play life-sized games of pool on the Marsh ranch.
We walk into another room, through a green door that has six or seven brass doorknobs lined up on one side. Inside, there are several guys in their 20s milling around and smoking cigarettes in what looks to be either an artists' studio or a storage unit, and is realistically a little bit of both. Lunch has been ordered for us, and is waiting at a round table under silver plate-covers. We make small talk with the boys, who appear to be Stanley Marsh's personal servants and protege-hopefulls. There is also a student film crew present from, strangely enough, Oral Roberts University.
We ask the kids what it is they do here. They tell us that in addition to feeding and taking care of Mr. Marsh, they make art for him. This not only means fabricating pieces that Marsh comes up with – it means forging famous abstract expressionist pieces for his office and ranch. We eye a drying rack of wet "Pollocks" and "Rothkos." We are told that Marsh "collects the art, not the artist."
And is that a new Kline?
After a few minutes, Stanley Marsh 3 himself comes in to say hello. He speaks slowly, and delivers what must be the speech he gives any visitors, judging by the fact that LBK has snuck up behind him and begins to mock Mr. Marsh by mouthing what the older man is saying. LBK does this with food in his mouth, as Stanley Marsh pretends to talk very seriously about Robert Smithson. The whole thing feels rehearsed. Stanley Marsh then tells us, among other things, that he recently commissioned a new piece - three giant letters: A, R, and T. "That way," he says, "When people ask me what art is, I can say, 'It's three big letters in my backyard!'"
Stanley Marsh 3 leaves, and we don't see him again. Then, for whatever reason, all the kids and the film crew form this human pyramid:
