Wait, you mean that wasn't the underpass of a New York subway??
Modern art was ruined for me when Jeff Koons turned into the the sort of thing you'd find at a Buc-ee's in Tomball, TX. As you said, the truly original talents can't get noticed. They can't even sleep there way to the not, because they can't be hear over "the cretinous din of Anna Weyland’s howling vagina."
I swear, someday I'm going to find a way to use that line. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday.... 🤗
"Shh...she said, stopping dead still as if her very existence depended on her silence. We watched in awe as she crouched and put her ear to the rails to hear the mournful, cretinous din of Anna Weyland's howling vagina."
BAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, you turned that into pure gold. I think I pulled a rib muscle laughing!
You know, I always make John listen to my Cappuccinos before I send them out. He (wisely) reins me in a bit on the snark. The fact that he let that pass the censors is really something ;-)
This Gagosian dude looks creepy, like Lurch inviting you into an eyes wide shut bacchanal. And the fact that a struggling artist is subjected to his seminated Jackson Pollack casting couch is indicative of how power and money can corrupt. It’s fucked up and sad. However, the colorful and masterful strokes you’ve painted,like bong riffs, Rumpleforeskin and howling vagina are priceless! 👍
I try so hard to behave myself, but when I get my Irish up, the snark comes tumbling out. It's not something I'm proud of. Ellery actually rolls his eyes at me!
"Arts and artists are treated like a hemorrhagic disease." -- If that were true, it would be an improvement. At least then artists would be shown a measure of genuine respect.
The garbage that is passed off as art -- and the art that is passed over as garbage -- is pretty staggering. James Patterson is cranking out something like 10 books this year, and each one of them is guaranteed to be a best seller. This despite the fact that each one is largely guaranteed to be indistinguishable from any of the others. If you're cranking out product like link-sausages, then link-sausages is the standard at which you are cranking. And I imagine Patterson's sausages are tasty, as far as sausages go. (That's starting to sound like a sexual thing, which is unfortunate.) But literature anyone will be talking about a week after they hit the best seller list? On this I choose tor remain dubious.
What I can't stand about Patterson is he's basically NFTing his name. Typical morning in Patterson-land. He dodders into the office, kicks around a few ideas, and his team of underpaid ghostwriters pen the work. It's all true. He makes no effort to hide it. Then he hits the links.
Meanwhile, I know of three artists within spitting distance of where I live who are the real deal, and no one knows who they are because of cockroaches like Gagosian.
There is this scene in the film "Koyaanisqatsi" (Life out of balance) that is all rapid cuts between mind-numbing masses of business people rushing up or down escalators, and hot dogs being churned out of a factory.
There are Famous Academics who have churned out innumerable books without ever setting finger to keyboard as their desperate grad students do all the work for them.
Artists have always relied on wealthy patrons. Salieri was a star while Mozart starved to death. As long as Rembrandt had wealthy supporters great. Out of style - penniless. That this isn’t new makes it no less disgusting. “Be nice George. You have to pay the price George”. I can only write because I don’t need to earn a living from it. Problem is, of course, while earning a living, no time to write. My book is a losing financial proposition. I never expected it to succeed in that way. The only way for it to sell enough to live on is for it to become a blockbuster- Oprah or a movie star discovers it. There’s no middle class in the arts. You’re either rolling in it or starving. The money is almost always only interested in the money. The concept of art as anything other than a commodity does not exist for them. In other words, I totally agree with you. Sigh.
That's exactly how I wound up on a stripper pole. I don't talk about it much, but it's true. As you said, "Problem is, of course, while earning a living, no time to write." I had to carve out huge swaths of time for myself AND support myself the only way I knew how.
You're a good writer, Richard. I wish that even mattered anymore. Hell, I just wish people read.
Wait, you mean that wasn't the underpass of a New York subway??
Modern art was ruined for me when Jeff Koons turned into the the sort of thing you'd find at a Buc-ee's in Tomball, TX. As you said, the truly original talents can't get noticed. They can't even sleep there way to the not, because they can't be hear over "the cretinous din of Anna Weyland’s howling vagina."
I swear, someday I'm going to find a way to use that line. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday.... 🤗
"Shh...she said, stopping dead still as if her very existence depended on her silence. We watched in awe as she crouched and put her ear to the rails to hear the mournful, cretinous din of Anna Weyland's howling vagina."
BAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, you turned that into pure gold. I think I pulled a rib muscle laughing!
You know, I always make John listen to my Cappuccinos before I send them out. He (wisely) reins me in a bit on the snark. The fact that he let that pass the censors is really something ;-)
I will ALWAYS love that line. 😝❤️
This Gagosian dude looks creepy, like Lurch inviting you into an eyes wide shut bacchanal. And the fact that a struggling artist is subjected to his seminated Jackson Pollack casting couch is indicative of how power and money can corrupt. It’s fucked up and sad. However, the colorful and masterful strokes you’ve painted,like bong riffs, Rumpleforeskin and howling vagina are priceless! 👍
I try so hard to behave myself, but when I get my Irish up, the snark comes tumbling out. It's not something I'm proud of. Ellery actually rolls his eyes at me!
"Arts and artists are treated like a hemorrhagic disease." -- If that were true, it would be an improvement. At least then artists would be shown a measure of genuine respect.
The garbage that is passed off as art -- and the art that is passed over as garbage -- is pretty staggering. James Patterson is cranking out something like 10 books this year, and each one of them is guaranteed to be a best seller. This despite the fact that each one is largely guaranteed to be indistinguishable from any of the others. If you're cranking out product like link-sausages, then link-sausages is the standard at which you are cranking. And I imagine Patterson's sausages are tasty, as far as sausages go. (That's starting to sound like a sexual thing, which is unfortunate.) But literature anyone will be talking about a week after they hit the best seller list? On this I choose tor remain dubious.
What I can't stand about Patterson is he's basically NFTing his name. Typical morning in Patterson-land. He dodders into the office, kicks around a few ideas, and his team of underpaid ghostwriters pen the work. It's all true. He makes no effort to hide it. Then he hits the links.
Meanwhile, I know of three artists within spitting distance of where I live who are the real deal, and no one knows who they are because of cockroaches like Gagosian.
"hits the links" -- back to the sausage metaphor.
There is this scene in the film "Koyaanisqatsi" (Life out of balance) that is all rapid cuts between mind-numbing masses of business people rushing up or down escalators, and hot dogs being churned out of a factory.
There are Famous Academics who have churned out innumerable books without ever setting finger to keyboard as their desperate grad students do all the work for them.
Artists have always relied on wealthy patrons. Salieri was a star while Mozart starved to death. As long as Rembrandt had wealthy supporters great. Out of style - penniless. That this isn’t new makes it no less disgusting. “Be nice George. You have to pay the price George”. I can only write because I don’t need to earn a living from it. Problem is, of course, while earning a living, no time to write. My book is a losing financial proposition. I never expected it to succeed in that way. The only way for it to sell enough to live on is for it to become a blockbuster- Oprah or a movie star discovers it. There’s no middle class in the arts. You’re either rolling in it or starving. The money is almost always only interested in the money. The concept of art as anything other than a commodity does not exist for them. In other words, I totally agree with you. Sigh.
That's exactly how I wound up on a stripper pole. I don't talk about it much, but it's true. As you said, "Problem is, of course, while earning a living, no time to write." I had to carve out huge swaths of time for myself AND support myself the only way I knew how.
You're a good writer, Richard. I wish that even mattered anymore. Hell, I just wish people read.
Thank you. I thought I was all alone here in Music Shitty, U.S.A.