TI'S Sunday, 29th of March 2009, and a big welcome to my suffering readers....
Let me start this Blog by clearly stating, i know nothing about modern art, and it's hidden interpretations.. What i enjoy is a piece of work, which stands alone and does not need an explanation from a deeply troubled and psychotic artist, who has learnt to paint with his or her eyes closed whilst simultaneously stood on their heads, which apparently helps capture the mood of the piece apparently..
I am told frequently by those in the ''know'' I am so passe, like a pair of flared trousers in a drainpipe world, purely because i enjoy an artist who can paint something which clearly resembles the item they are representing..Novel hey!!!!.
But to me the art world is full of unhinged, socially inadequate misfits, who can appraise a discarded toe nail in 5000 words, or wax lyrical about a bar stool, tossed on to the dance floor, during a bar brawl, as it represents pure emotion and unadulterated passion at the moment of propulsion....uhhhhhhh.. ''what the hell are they talking about''!!!!!!, but find it impossible to be polite or exchange any type of small talk as its clearly beneath them.Poor lost souls...
In my house i have what i consider tastefully arranged art work, including a 6 piece hand painted Buddha which, to me, is tranquility personified, but for fear of ridicule, i am discarding this work of beauty, and going out tonight to accost 3 live cats and dogs, which i will frame and nail to the wall, whilst still alive and placed where once my Buddha hung.. Genius hey, ( I think Damien Hurst just came in his thong)... ''That's patented now Damien, so stick to your Cows heads with maggots,'' my lawyer is watching.!!!
The irony of all of this is that my darling girlfriend is doing a degree on the history of art and photography, which means i am forced to discuss the idiosyncratic traits of particular artists, which, if i am being honest, is as much fun as walking through Gaza, naked with the star of David tattooed on my back, sans four skin..
And i find myself re-writing her 2000 word essays, trying my best to formulate them into another language, ''Art speak'', which is incredibly taxing, as its hard enough being eloquent in the Queens English, without throwing the bullshit of art speak into the mix.... The degree would be far better re titled ''Art speak, and how to bamboozle the public with nonsensical gobbly-gook''.. .
The last time i went to a gallery, i remember seeing various images of flowers, animals, inanimate objects, landscapes, crashing oceans and the like. But now its full of images of someone who has just wet the bed, or incestuous nudity amongst verrrrrrrry close families, waste paper baskets full of rubbish,or a couple of Queers snorting Cocaine from each others genitals.. ( i know, i am so P.C.)...So tell me, what the fuck is artistic about that????, If that's modern, you can stick it in the part of Tracy Emin's anatomy where the sun don't shine.
Talking of the now very famous Miss Emin, the inspiration for her exhibition piece, ''the un made bed'', remember that?( see pic above) .. was her feelings after being plundered and pillaged all night long with a series of appendages,and marital aids,both real and latex, allegedly..And it captured her mood, or so the art critique's tell us..( her arse , sorry, i mean my heart bleeds for her..oops, sorry ,faux pas there) .
How her bedroom linen differs from anybody Else's after swapping bodily fluids in an orgy of debauchery, i cant tell you, but our Tracy was lauded from upon high for hers..Go Figure, strange world we live in, but I'm hearing wonderful news from the art world.
The aforementioned Miss Emin, recently purchased a dog called ''Shandy Warhol'', but became ill, so was taken to the vet, where this rodent like creature received a barium meal,which has inspired Tracy to produce her latest masterpiece, simply called ''WHITE DOG SHIT''..Genius at work. me thinks.
So modern art, and its critique's.For me at least, i get all lost in translation, but i must say i am growing rather fond of my slowly dying animals hanging on the wall, and as i cook my roast chicken dinner, i have had an artistic Epiphany.. I'm not going to eat it, oh no, i am going to frame this roast chicken , and hang that in the living room, which my personal shopper and art critic Cecil, has assured me is ''So Now'', as Beef tenderloin, coupled with the exposed brick wall is so out and ssoooo last Month....I think i have come over all modern and artistic....
FUCKING WEIRDO'S..
And to Quote my good friend Slice....'' GET A REAL JOB''.
UNTIL THE NEXT TIME, MAY THE PALM BE WITH YOU
