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8/29/2022 12:49 pm  #61


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

Rock wrote:

Fine art is one area where I have absolutely no capacity for judging what differentiates the good from the bad. I mean, I took art in high school and developed some understanding of technique (which I’ve forgotten entirely) and the handful of times I’ve been in an art gallery or museum setting, the works were presented with enough context that I could kinda, sorta make some sense of them. But if I run into a piece in the wild, I have no fucking idea what I’m looking at, and then hearing how much some of these pieces go for (especially all those fuck ugly NFT abominations), I have to assume somebody’s trying to launder money.

It's like anything. If you care about it enough, you immerse yourself in so much that you start noticing those small details that differentiate it. The reality is most criticism, whether it is movies or art, need more inspired and informed and curious and humble amateurs weighing in. But instead what we get is a lot of pseudo intellectual frauds who know the right words to use but have zero idea about articulating the actual heart of a piece, or complete no nothings who think their immediate gut instinct on whether or not something pleased them is enough. We need more in the middle.

But, as with anything, one has to have enough of an interest to get deep in. And, like anything, it's important to always understand however much you think you know about an artform, you don't know the half of it, and what you already know is probably suspect and should always be questioned.

And, yes, the rich stupids are the bane of existence. They have power behind their dumbness. Their dumbness drives culture.
 

 

8/29/2022 12:52 pm  #62


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

No Cy Twombly?

I'm pretty liberal with various forms of minimalism, expressionism, even the defiantly unaesthetic.  But this is an example of the kind of art that reminds me of those stories of how old man Picasso would scribble on the napkins at restaurants in lieu of paying cash.



"Shield of Achilles"?  C'mon.  It's a shaved foreskin.


 

8/29/2022 12:56 pm  #63


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

Rock wrote:

then hearing how much some of these pieces go for (especially all those fuck ugly NFT abominations), I have to assume somebody’s trying to launder money.

It's understandable when historic pieces of art go for ungodly sums of money. They are essentially one of a kind antiques that are deeply important to culture. They are probably still seriously inflated, but at least there is sense to it. I can wrap my head around 100m price tags, even though it is still clearly absurd.

But the manner in how art has developed the last thirty or so years, it is almost certainly a con. The rich hoping they can buy themselves into cultural significance. It's crass and gross and exactly the kind of thing artists should be pushing back against (but how can we expect them to, when there is this kind of money on the line...even if that money is designated for very particular kinds of artists...ie. those with connections). I imagine the beginning of this was when people started commissioning self portraits from Warhol. It was a cache for them that had absolutely nothing to do with the quality of the work (which is why Warhol is a fairly considered a polarizing force, for both good and bad in the art world, even if he is also arguably the most important artist of the last hundred years).

Also having art used for tax purposes and (yeah) probably laundering of some shady things, only further goes to undermining what is so great about painting. And why I can't think of an artists off the top of my head of any value who has emerged after 2000. There undoubtedly are some, but they've been buried beneath the swamp of opportunists who ended up in the right place at the right time.

My favorite culture moment of the last few years was watching that painting that Banksy auctioned off get immediatley shredded as soon as the gavel went down. It was great not only because it made it clear what a swindle it all was, but it is also great in the way that I imagine the publicity of that moment has given  those  shredded bits of canvas even more monetary value. Which says everything, even as it deliberately leaned into controversy = money paradigm. Not that this hadn't already been exploited with the whole Mr. Brainwash debacle explored in Exit Through the Gift Shop.

Basically, the art world is fucked and the only way one can ever make a living at it is by bending towards what is trending with gallerists (ie. rich brats who have pretend jobs explaining the value of modern art, when they clearly have Yarn levels of knowledge)
 

Last edited by crumbsroom (8/29/2022 1:00 pm)

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8/29/2022 1:13 pm  #64


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

Jinnistan wrote:

No Cy Twombly?

I'm pretty liberal with various forms of minimalism, expressionism, even the defiantly unaesthetic.  But this is an example of the kind of art that reminds me of those stories of how old man Picasso would scribble on the napkins at restaurants in lieu of paying cash.



"Shield of Achilles"?  C'mon.  It's a shaved foreskin.

That's not a favorite of mine, while I generally would consider Twombly in my top 10 favorite aritsts of all time. Generally, his use of line and how compositionally strong his scribbles are as they litter a canvas, fills me with the joy of baring witness to pure unregulated creativity spilling out of his pencils. I can get lost in some of his works and just stare at them for hours, even while completely understanding most people wouldn't even think to give them a second glance unless they were in a gallery.

That said, hucksterism has absolutely been a part of the artworld for a long time now. And there is no question that, because of the informal styles people like Twombly or Pollock or Basquiat or Rauschenberg or Schnabel dive deeply into, it made it very lucrative for them to toss anything out there for the syncophants to gobble up. Because its not like the ones buying their art were ever terribly thoughtful about what they were looking at.

I don't think there is a painter that I love that doesn't have loads of stuff they've done that I absolutely hate. I think Basquiat has made some of the greatest pieces ever. But also some of the worst.

Essentially, what I'm saying is I think it is okay for their to be at least a bit of fraud running through the blood of or greatest. At its heart, art is about manipulation. And while we want that manipulation to be well intended most of the time, its hard to imagine masters of such a thing not sometimes slipping into the darkside (see the vast majority of Warhol's career....which as an aside, having watched the Netflix documentary on him, I found it astonishing how so much of his best work I had absolutely no knowledge of, where much of his hackiest most unprovactively empty stuff is synonymous with his signature....because that's what Mick Jagger and Jane Fonda bought)
 

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8/29/2022 1:30 pm  #65


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

Just to show how there is such a thin line from indifference to love in art, I find this Twombly to be incredible. Whereas the one JJ posted, is at best okay from my perspective. But how exactly do I go about explaining why? To even try would almost break my brain. I guess the nuances in shading around the puddle of scribbling. How less defined the lines are, making it seem like light is peeking through the mix, and it isn't just an errant garble of lines. Also, I think the mix of text and graphic is important, as it changes the composition of what is happening in frame, adds something more dynamic, as well as pulls my attention around the actual 'drawing' part, and not directly to its center as the other painting down.

I don't know. And it's the mystery that I find fascinating.




 

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8/29/2022 1:33 pm  #66


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

The real question though, is how legitimately great is this painting?



I guess the DNA of why I abandoned painting and drawing at a really young age is in my assesment of this. This is a great painting. This is what I would aspire to, and I would just sit there in art class completely out of step as everyone else was drawing pictures of homeless people looking sad and staring into a gutter as some great commentary on the societal abandoment of the poor.

I knew as soon as a girl submitted a used bicycle, with some party streamers attached, saying it was a metaphor for economic oppression, that I wanted nothing to do with these fucking people. Especially when she got an A and a scholarship to the best art school in Toronto (in fairness, she actually was a good artist, but that shit was some pandering nonsense...I still remember the puddles of excitable saliva dripping from my teachers mouth as she wheeled that monstrosity up to the front of the class to explain it.....ugh and ack and blergh all at once)
 

Last edited by crumbsroom (8/29/2022 2:03 pm)

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8/29/2022 1:38 pm  #67


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

Have I ever mentioned I have the equivalent of  Peter Max napkin doodle somewhere in my house?

Let's just say I liberated it from the file cabinet of a rich entitled cunt who had no idea what it was. It's absolutely worthless, I'm sure, so its not like he had any use for it.
 

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8/29/2022 1:44 pm  #68


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

crumbsroom wrote:

The real question though, is how legitimately great is this painting?

That’s because it’s relatable. Who hasn’t shrieked in fear of their own shadow and a nearby bush?


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8/29/2022 2:00 pm  #69


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

crumbsroom wrote:




 

Yeah, I get this one.  Yeti with wolf carcass in sheep's clothing.  Duh.

The previous piece, however, has no mystery to it. 
 


 

8/29/2022 2:30 pm  #70


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

Jinnistan wrote:

The previous piece, however, has no mystery to it. 
 

It sort of looks like Red Skull doing some emo Cosplay with a new haircut.

I'm sure he'd like to think he's at least a little bit mysterious.

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8/29/2022 2:34 pm  #71


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

In looking at the Red Skull Emo Twombly, I honestly think a lot of what I don't like is its placement on the canvas. You couldn't possibly put it dead centre, but it just being nudged to the furthest side of the canvas makes it compositionally really flat. There is all this activity going on with the black lines, and its just neutralized by sitting direct center of the left side of the frame. Just nudging it further up into one of the corners, leaving much of the rest of the canvas that dirty smudged white, would do wonders for my appreciation.
Still wouldn't be a favorite, but just that slight change would make a world of difference.
 

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8/29/2022 2:41 pm  #72


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

THE KILLING GAME

Part 2 

He introduced himself as Merlin. Black face with a shock of white hair on top. Now on our porch. Large belly hanging over his belt. Eyes bloodshot with rum. A loud voice, asking for Christopher. His son. Who we all thought might be Chinese.

My grandmother said she nearly fell down when she opened the door. “That was his father”, she said after my friend had left. “I never would have thought that in a million years” 

His mother was Joy. Looked a lot like Susan Tyrell. A travel agent who never seemed to leave the house. Spent all day in the flowing leopard print silk gowns she slept in. She could usually be found up in her bedroom. Would let you into the house after poking her head out the window and looking down to see who was knocking. Then go straight back to bed as soon as she told you to let yourself in. Sometimes you’d hear her up there moving around. Sometimes it was completely silent and there was no light coming from the space underneath her door.

Merlin and Joy spent most of their time at night or on the weekends in their basement watching Graceland in a dark room. Getting very drunk. Never dancing, just slowly sinking into the sofa, while we could do whatever we wanted anywhere else. No one called out the door asking what we were doing. No one stopped us from climbing up dangerous trees. Or finding windows to fall out of. Most of our first summer as friends was spent in an underground parking garage, fighting spies. Trying the handles on cars. 

Last edited by crumbsroom (8/29/2022 2:42 pm)

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8/29/2022 2:46 pm  #73


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

Jinnistan wrote:

Red Skull could use some panache.


 

8/29/2022 2:47 pm  #74


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

I know there is no need to restate the obvious, but man oh man I love that movie.

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8/29/2022 2:49 pm  #75


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

What movie is that from?


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8/29/2022 2:56 pm  #76


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

Rock wrote:

What movie is that from?

Shriek of the Mutilated

The greatest Yeti movie of them all. And I think the only one Captain Terror doesn't like.

Last edited by crumbsroom (8/29/2022 2:56 pm)

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8/29/2022 2:58 pm  #77


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

crumbsroom wrote:

Rock wrote:

What movie is that from?

Shriek of the Mutilated

The greatest Yeti movie of them all. And I think the only one Captain Terror doesn't like.

I consider it more as the scariest Shaggy Dog movie of them all.


 

8/29/2022 3:01 pm  #78


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

Ah, I think that’s getting a fancy new Blu-ray from Vinegar Syndrome soon.


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8/29/2022 3:52 pm  #79


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

THE KILLING GAME

Part 3 

Things could get violent. One time Christopher punched me in the nose after I kicked him in the head. Another time he dragged me up a staircase by my hair. Then there was the time he gently scratched a scar on my hand with his fingernail as we lay under the sun in the courtyard of his Townhouse. I remember how I kept checking to see if it was there yet. Then let him keep scratching when it wasn’t. 

Garrett didn’t like him. Didn’t think proper kids hung out in the Townhouse where Chris lived. Said all they wanted to play was War and his mother wouldn’t let him do that because that’s what poor kids played. He was mean to him when we all hung out together. Said his dad’s car was rusty. That his mom drank too much wine. Sometimes Garrett would tell me I had to choose who I wanted to be friends with. Couldn’t be both.  

Sometimes I’d get real mad at Garrett and one night after dinner Christopher told me all I had to do was call him over if I was that mad. Get him to stand in a spot beneath the tall tree on my front lawn. Showed me what he was planning to do as he climbed up into it. Stood watching as he began screaming and jumped down to the grass. Stabbing it with hedge clippers. Tearing up the lawn until he was exhausted, and I could see my grandmother peering through the curtains. 

“Aren’t you going to call him”, he asked as we sat on the porch with popsicles, our lips and tongues cherry red. Staring blankly at my grandmother who was now outside tending to the wounded grass. Putting dirt back into all the holes Christopher was responsible for.  

“I guess” 

“Make sure you don’t tell him I’m here though. That will ruin the surprise” 

I never did make that call and was told later I was grounded.  

But I knew not really.  

Last edited by crumbsroom (8/29/2022 3:52 pm)

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9/05/2022 5:55 pm  #80


Re: LOVE, crumbsroom

THE KILLING GAME

Part 4: Basements and Lawns and the Places In Between 


You had to keep your shoes on because of the battery acid, but that’s where all his toys were. Down in Christopher’s basement, scattered on a shag carpet frothing with flesh burning chemicals. Everything cracked open and spilling before I even got there. You had to be brave as his parents weren’t watching. Trusted us not to die. Left us on our own. Had no concerns they might come down the stairs only to find our skeletons, bleached from the light of the television. But we somehow managed to keep our skin on us. Even though I often suspected we wouldn't always. We were down there so much.  

Shoes came off immediately at Garrett's. Nothing was broken there and they wanted to keep it that way. Were always shooing me away from things. Had already broken their pool that summer because I didn’t know how to swim right. And with his father perpetually nervous about his lawn, I couldn’t be trusted with the grass. Kept getting caught half-way across it on my shortcut to their front door. Him standing there in the driveway and glaring at me standing still, too afraid to take another step. Surrounded by his magnificent grass. Feeling blades of it crumbling beneath my feet which he would now need to crouch down beneath the hot sun to repair. Screaming at a garden hose. His arms smudged up to the elbow with sheep manure. His hair falling out.  

Even inside, where his mother never left the kitchen table, where she drank Coca-Cola all day long, we were always being watched. She could see through the floorboards. Knew when I was picking up something I shouldn’t have. Her voice would call to us to get ourselves out of there. Back outside, where her husband was still down on all fours. Surrounded by sprinklers that had yet to be turned on. Sweating and hating every bit of me.  

And so, it was when I wanted to have fun, I hung out with Chris. And when I got tired of that, there was always Garrett. Sometimes it was nice to feel safe. Sometimes it was nice not to have fun.

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