In art school I made a series of paintings about cartoon naked dudes with scarred faces fighting for burgers and dollars. I didn't know that it wasn't art. Art belongs more to the consumer, than it does the artist. And the consumer is discerning (?) But what populates my head are flocks of baloney slices with angel wings attached on either side, carrying them through crystal blue skies silhouetted by puffy white clouds!!! - It's a portrait of you saving me.
I can make you a set of prayer beads. Baloney Angel Prayer Beads! Limited edition.
God.
You know you could shift your focus to enter a grand discourse about consumerism and what it means to have a computer. Or at least try making a sexy monochrome. Why be such a solipsist? Use the latest Pantone colors. Make those squiggly photoshop brushstrokes on stuff. Drop Shadow.Come on
The essayist becomes the artist, and all objects become illustrations of their thesis. Clear thesis. More valued when created outside of an institution.
Their parents must not have helped them with their homework!
An artist must learn to make sense of the world. To gather data, and collate it. Collect everything that looks smart when sticking halfway out of a cement block. If it's considered radical, it's because someone thought radically around it. Art is like a Disney princess with cartoon bluebirds getting her dressed for the history books. Art is just stuff you think of and do... Humility is a huge turn off though, because no one can see themselves reflected in burlap.
There's a top 20 list of irrelevant things that've lost their meaning which contains non-selfie portraits and non-celebrity artists. Identity has made it to the scrap heap as well. Because no one wants to know that you still have options. Still! More.Always. It's overwhelming enough just trying to loose your own halfway created, ever shifting identity to a network of roiling articles, let alone someone's fully fledged one that they make work about. There are different ways to live - there's time to make mistakes, change your mind. Record it all. Humility is a huge turn off though, because no one can see themselves in burlap. Tell them succinctly - What are we going to do tomorrow? - Look for your grand master. It's still a he, and he will give you cryptocurrency. What are we going to eat? - Not the Fukushima fish. Who will make the room cold enough for the stockbrokers to continue trading representations of our collective feelings about Kellogg's cereal? - Artists. - These things are important. Know your stories. My boss is excellent at this. Any time he's asked a question, he replies with a story. Parable. Politicians parry. About art school, or being a child, or watching a gang bang. Stories still mean something, and Glengarry Glen Ross replays when the only women around have cut off all of their hair. The winners go on, gruff like a coke fueled 80s maverick. There isn't time for anything cute. It's all got to cut. Because.Hunger Games