I've been up n' over and around this one so many times in the last almost 50 years... I've completely forgotten what lap of this great mad mad mad mad race I'm on... I can't recall, do I even like the "popular"? Am I drawn to the obscure? What's in it for the better of me... or is it for the better of the image of "me" I've tried so hard to put in front of you? This one curls quicker towards the back of the house; and certainly has been "hurried hard" more than once in this almost half-long life.
...with an open mind (he now demands of himself).
I mean, really all that nonsense... Did I "hate" it because so many of you loved it? Did I love it simply because no one else, or so few had ever heard it or of it... teenaged dreams of a mighty intelligence. Am I tired of cultural elitism hence riding the "so new it's beyond you" wave and really just exploring the pre-popular, again? Am I sick of this self-perceived trend towards stupidity and hiding amongst the esoterica... right in the middle of my own middle to darks ages... Am I sick of having to read the "instruction manual-esq" artistista come radical-rabid waskily-wabbit statement... or, just looking for a roly-poly jolly-good ol' belly laugh?
...and there's where one get's "closer to the heart"... I guess (who)?.
I recently attended an ART opening; and I do mean ART as in capital A. capital R. capital T. art opening. You know all installation-like and sublime? Well hung but utterly "off the mark". I certainly liked what the artist(s) had done "did to the room"... but matching their proposition, the "statement", to the images mounted and the various thingies littered around said, room; truly left me scratching my head. Sadly, the little talk given by one of the "artists" (indeed, it was art by collective, again, after all these years)... the explanation made it no easier not to be kinda, like... just a little unkind, oh well.
Happily, as is and/or was often the case... the sub-show, the back-up room backup exhibition that these (still with us after all these years) artist-run spaces often mount, at least when the main show(man) doesn't demand the whole darned space, was... exceptional; well worth the walk in the rain to the gallery, the risk of bad-wine and oh-so so-so selection of cheeses. (note, my whine and cheesey elitism will most likely certainly be covered in future diatribe like missives)...
...hey and, scratching one's head ain't all that bad a nights out on the town at the galleries, now... is it!
...and then along came Banksy (again and again)... oh dear, oh dear ol' banksy. Many of your now thousands of images, so wonderful yet SO lost on me for one very simple reason. It's not your fucking property. Seriously, your self important image of yourself, thinking this provides you licence over someone else's "schtuff"... in oh so many ways points directly at the reason why our society is so swiftly-swirling in such quick circles to the bottom of this... guilden-aged-gold-fish-bowl. Sigh... I guess, it does make you think... no? (...of course defacing another's defacements is frowned upon by the defacer contingent so, rule out gut-reaction numero uno)
...ooops, there pops up my "grrrr" gene again.
As an aside... here's a triple side order of links to officially publicly sanctioned public art works that I feel quite equally have answered a Mr. Banksy like pursuits of novel-grandiosities; novel-juxtipositionesh and well even a sublime goofi-ness-like challenge to novelty itself AND our oh-so-scared cows... even... perhap?
Crikey, how I've failed to work the grand and sometimes wonderously grandiose works of Mr. Cristo and the likes of his lovely orange shower curtains into the mix of all of this, god himself only knows.
...with an open mind (he now demands of himself).
I mean, really all that nonsense... Did I "hate" it because so many of you loved it? Did I love it simply because no one else, or so few had ever heard it or of it... teenaged dreams of a mighty intelligence. Am I tired of cultural elitism hence riding the "so new it's beyond you" wave and really just exploring the pre-popular, again? Am I sick of this self-perceived trend towards stupidity and hiding amongst the esoterica... right in the middle of my own middle to darks ages... Am I sick of having to read the "instruction manual-esq" artistista come radical-rabid waskily-wabbit statement... or, just looking for a roly-poly jolly-good ol' belly laugh?
...and there's where one get's "closer to the heart"... I guess (who)?.
I recently attended an ART opening; and I do mean ART as in capital A. capital R. capital T. art opening. You know all installation-like and sublime? Well hung but utterly "off the mark". I certainly liked what the artist(s) had done "did to the room"... but matching their proposition, the "statement", to the images mounted and the various thingies littered around said, room; truly left me scratching my head. Sadly, the little talk given by one of the "artists" (indeed, it was art by collective, again, after all these years)... the explanation made it no easier not to be kinda, like... just a little unkind, oh well.
Happily, as is and/or was often the case... the sub-show, the back-up room backup exhibition that these (still with us after all these years) artist-run spaces often mount, at least when the main show(man) doesn't demand the whole darned space, was... exceptional; well worth the walk in the rain to the gallery, the risk of bad-wine and oh-so so-so selection of cheeses. (note, my whine and cheesey elitism will most likely certainly be covered in future diatribe like missives)...
...hey and, scratching one's head ain't all that bad a nights out on the town at the galleries, now... is it!
...and then along came Banksy (again and again)... oh dear, oh dear ol' banksy. Many of your now thousands of images, so wonderful yet SO lost on me for one very simple reason. It's not your fucking property. Seriously, your self important image of yourself, thinking this provides you licence over someone else's "schtuff"... in oh so many ways points directly at the reason why our society is so swiftly-swirling in such quick circles to the bottom of this... guilden-aged-gold-fish-bowl. Sigh... I guess, it does make you think... no? (...of course defacing another's defacements is frowned upon by the defacer contingent so, rule out gut-reaction numero uno)
...ooops, there pops up my "grrrr" gene again.
As an aside... here's a triple side order of links to officially publicly sanctioned public art works that I feel quite equally have answered a Mr. Banksy like pursuits of novel-grandiosities; novel-juxtipositionesh and well even a sublime goofi-ness-like challenge to novelty itself AND our oh-so-scared cows... even... perhap?
Crikey, how I've failed to work the grand and sometimes wonderously grandiose works of Mr. Cristo and the likes of his lovely orange shower curtains into the mix of all of this, god himself only knows.
 |  |  |
...oh heck.
It's all good-fun really. Sure I may sound all up-n-at my GRRRRR. Shaking my yet to be thoroughly broken in, nor even yet bought n paid for old man's cursin' and complaining cane (I've one pick out, brass tipped with a rain-forest mahogany shaft and a sadly no longer with us elephant's ivory tusk handle, "grandfathered" no less)....
It's all good-fun really. Sure I may sound all up-n-at my GRRRRR. Shaking my yet to be thoroughly broken in, nor even yet bought n paid for old man's cursin' and complaining cane (I've one pick out, brass tipped with a rain-forest mahogany shaft and a sadly no longer with us elephant's ivory tusk handle, "grandfathered" no less)....
For now, I'll just waggle my fickly finger of fret ...as I fully intend to keep on liking all the things I really DO like; and perhaps even more so like despising the things that make me blood run boiled for some dumb reason or another... regardless of whether they are anachronistically-new or avant-old... but, or is that and?
I guess, in the end... If you haven't so happily pissed me off while making me smile, or made me laugh while roiling in my own tears, OR simply kept me engagingly entertained through a moment of sheer and utter boredom... if any of you (yes, even you Mr. Bieber) stopped being you, stopped doing the things you do. Well, we'd have nothing but silver jumpsuits, flying cars and televised plot-lines only made-good when the Captain, makes it so and once again, skirts the oh-so-precious Prime Directive, do unto others and all that really worthwhile good stuff.
And with that... I'll lift the aforementioned blessed but not yet bought cussin' cursin' and complaining cane... in a manner not yet, but soon to be expertised-like mystro of the orchastra-pit-esq - Damn - almost an I finally know I'm absolutely right like manner and say... meh. Here are three POP songs I'll "watch" over and over and any time over n' all... again.
I guess, in the end... If you haven't so happily pissed me off while making me smile, or made me laugh while roiling in my own tears, OR simply kept me engagingly entertained through a moment of sheer and utter boredom... if any of you (yes, even you Mr. Bieber) stopped being you, stopped doing the things you do. Well, we'd have nothing but silver jumpsuits, flying cars and televised plot-lines only made-good when the Captain, makes it so and once again, skirts the oh-so-precious Prime Directive, do unto others and all that really worthwhile good stuff.
And with that... I'll lift the aforementioned blessed but not yet bought cussin' cursin' and complaining cane... in a manner not yet, but soon to be expertised-like mystro of the orchastra-pit-esq - Damn - almost an I finally know I'm absolutely right like manner and say... meh. Here are three POP songs I'll "watch" over and over and any time over n' all... again.
 A fun little pop parody that makes me happy when sad, and happier when happy... |  happy hippy thinking from a pop icon who I grew up with while disliking hippies... |  everyone needs a god in their life; me... this is simply my keeping the cash in x-mas. |
...if we stop making this shit up. We just stop making... Shit, you know what I'm getting at; or at least I hope you do. In the end, or at least much closer to the end than I am to the beginning, it has finally sunk through my thickened skull that none of this matters more or less than anything else, really. What matters is that the makers amongst us keep on making, are encouraged to make... and are rewarded, thanked and or otherwise appreciated for making...
...our lives are better for the the making.
In conclusion... I love all this... (you know what) xo-GG
...our lives are better for the the making.
In conclusion... I love all this... (you know what) xo-GG
RSS Feed
