Wednesday 7 July 2010

that show at whitespace


i think the damage done to the art on the beltline was an inside (the closet) job.
it seems to me that those inclined to know about the art on the beltline , care enough to go see the art on the beltline, bring what appeared to be a weapon/tool..looked like an axe to me... (premeditated? and requiring a return visit?) why not just destroy the whole thing? --it just seems to uuum...appropriate, convenient- reeks of desperation for discussion. which is sorta great, but in this case it's like the rejected nerd kid that tries to start selling drugs so he can have at least a partial conversation with the assholes he thinks are cool. the assholes in this case are an imagined audience..the reality is "we" as artists are the audience- so spare us the empty gestures to "them" let's play to each other. we know the parlour tricks. the theme is important, the technique is about original as anything on tee vee at 8pm. moving on, okay?

im all for discussion of art, tho. i just find the art on the beltline thing to be kinda funny. it's more about the path than the goal itself to me. meaning, screw the beltline itself...whatever. if many of the artists scrambling for a funded opp and supposed attention stopped and looked at the deal itself (the "affordable workforce housing authority of it all, the crock of shit that this thing is, if they were truly principled about their art, many wldnt want shit to do with this giant liposuction recycle gesture. we'll see it in 30 years or whatever. the beltine. meh.i dont think many of the artists gave a shit about it itself. i truly do hope it helps the layout and connectivity of the city, so far, i see miniature arch de triumphs and mock brownfields turned into sets for plastic fast paced sales lifestyles that are reinforced by big glowing billboards of useless self-images. mirrored buildings crammed between curved lifeless asphalt roads braiding into bigger expanses of interstate. one way frenetics adorned with beige concrete. keep moving. homeless people. stretches of industrial boring business blocks of gook interpolated into interesting places effectively fucking both. ikea. little fucking orphan annie? greasy ghetto meat for 8 bucks in yr gut and the wrapper rattles down the street... on the beltline itself tho, of the art ive seen..the piece by mensoff, cipcic, drouett..is the most amazing. it truly is a beautiful balnced delicate thing. being loosely aware of all three's work,the combo itself just seems enticing. i saw it and liked, it stopped me, and then was told who had done it- and just stood their enthralled.
as an artist i am paying attention to what other local artists are doing. on a local level, it's fun to isolate that focus as much as it is to ..well, not. to consider the entire planet. i just get a kick out of all the local saps thinking they can and need to educate "the public". all the starry-eyed kids with their 8th grade health book definition of community. all the washed up old-timers strutting around with their imaginary paths of glory behind them. some of them do inspire and carry a myth thats worth floating on, tho...
i love how local grassroots organizations get lost in the details, get lost in The Idea they bring of something good to meet with others' Idea of it AND SILENTLY NOT BLEND AND NOT CREATE DYNAMIC ENERGY, allow scary shallow evil fucks to plant themselves in the middle of a situation and rot while they cockroach rattle on and on about what a bunch of gold nuggets they've planted in nothing, and gosh i know its necessary...but... money. i'd like to dream that ART can find a place to actually experiment and focus on each other as friends and artists and thinkers, without egos and care on that level enough. to be free of worrying about straight up kuhniving bullshitters without a creative bone in their body, no ideas, all of its intentions (tho they dont matter) reveal shallow thought products incessantly slathered on gallery walls of vanity -with thick knee deep willpower that pushes their hideous face into stubborn firm place, hustling out a shitty yawn of an unimaginative no originality addict's living, with a nasty sneering raunchy gross humored base-level laugh and a warehouse redneck's bravado- and compromising the whole damn thing while everybody sits by and watches. free us of board up the asses bored meetings for meetings. free us of well-intended pc'ers thinking they need to not be themselves and suck every art events asshole clean just to be the nice face on the scene. is there a common denominator?
i was going to write about the show at whitespace. maybe next time. you guys need to go see it.

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