7.19.2011

Chain Letter - you got it (we're just not there yet)


Man in a grey shirt & boots (MG): “Consider him at work and excited by his project. His first practical step is retrospective.  He has to turn back to an already existing set made up of tools and materials to consider and reconsider what it contains and, finally, and above all, to engage in a sort of dialogue with it, and before choosing between them to index the possible answers which the whole can offer to his problem. He integrates all the heterogeneous objects of which his treasury is composed to discover what each could ‘signify’ and so contribute to the definition of a set which has yet to materialize.”

Man in a v-neck & tennis shoes (MV): What’s up with this?

(MG): Claude Levi-Strauss “The Savage Mind,” 1962.

(MV): My pants don’t say that. The benefits of non-fiction, eh?

(MG): Fuck the Chain Letter. Who cares about a thousand nameless artists?

(MV): Eat the sculpture like a loose turd – down your throat. These kids are crazy dear.

(MG): They’re simpletons. Everyone eats shit. Some pretend it’s cake.

(MV): It’s all about the texture. Chris told me it was a fuck show in there.

(MG): I don’t know what it’s all about anymore. Artists were walking out of the gallery with their work at the end of the opening. It was a show of weakness and internet culture. Totally decadent. I don’t consider myself a purist by any means, but jesus man, I think the gallerist was ready to pull his dreads out. Fuck!

(MV): Anonymity breeds a self-conscious confidence for those who feel unable to speak directly in person. It feels like liberty but in actuality, the immature personality engaged in this sophomoric grandstanding, only reassures the self as a victim, separate and beholden to the system in which they perform their insecure theater. The manifesto is scrawled on the bathroom wall and facebook! – The internet in real life – pissing on the sidewalk and laughing at bums. I live here; wanna visit? No one cares and no one’s looking; do what you will. Leaving messages in chalk and the morning dew will wash it all away - but hell, at least the stains make for a colorful gutter.

7.06.2011

Sweet on the Pill (The Devil has our Lunch)


Aristotle stated that one is not truly human until one laughs - laughter being the expression of a soul. He supposed an infant to be soulless up to that point. Usually a newborn laughs within the first couple months of life - I’m told I didn’t laugh until I was three-years old.