Art For Arts Sake
Ive never really understood what that means so if anyone would care to enlighten me, go ahead. Well I mentioned Em’s Junk Symposium a few weeks ago – and I wasnt joking. Yes I AM actually playing with rubbish. (photos coming tomorrow). I went down last week to check out how things were holding up with the latest storm and to make a few repairs and was highly suprised to see that I seem to have started a trend. I dont think I’ve ever started a trend before.
The first thing I noticed as I approached the beach was a tall object sticking out of the ground in the distance. I got closer to my gallery and saw someone had erected my comfy artist’s sitting log by supporting it with stones and other pieces of wood and rope. Interesting. Or rather – just a really big piece of wood re-contextualized in a rather prehistoric megolithic sort of a way (cue correction from geek) if you know what I mean. Next thing I noticed two separate piles of junk a short distance apart, in which I could see objects tied together and lying across the stones . From what I could tell these two assemblages had once stood upright, a higglety-pigglety conglomeration of assorted objects strung between two or more posts, but the enduring wind and less than secure fixings had blown them over – and yes they were like that when I got there. I didnt push them down.
So this is all very well and Im happy to be promoting the recycling of rubbish through art, only problem is these artists have chosen (or randomly grabbed) all my best pieces of hard earned flotsam and used most of my painstakingly collected fishingline and rope! And to make things worse they’ve taken all my interesting inspiring objects and thrown them together haphazardly, stringing odds and ends together, stuffing a piece of wide black corrogated pipe with everything they could lay their hands on so bits of rope and metal and vacuumcleaner hose spilt out of it, the uniqueness of my treasures unrecognizable amongst the total rubbish mass. Quite frankly it seems to me these ‘artists’ were more intent on creating an artwork based on very little concept at all and trying to make up for this by using as much junk as possible. Quantity not quality. No rhyme or reason to it – its just madness it is. Those were my first thoughts. Unless…. What if these are more than just two relocated rubbish piles? Could the concept really be a rejection of the aesthetic conventions of Modern Art? A spit in the face of Minimalist sculpture, a kick in the guts of those obssessors of the aesthetic? How can I continue in the face of such brilliance? How can I compete with this anonymous yet obviously contemporary art collective who are so ahead of their time? And well, feck, I couldnt possibly vandalize such masterpieces to retreive my pieces of junk from their brilliant entanglements – to do so would be to go against the artist’s unspoken code of honour (Rule number one: Dont touch the art man), not to mention envoke the wrath of the artist geniuses who would no doubt take their rage out on my own inferior artworks.
And so in the end I am resigned to hoarding away my precious findings like the true hobo stick lady I always knew I was. One hiding place would not do. Oh no. I must distribute my treasure in multiple secret spots along the presiding cliffs so if one is discovered and infiltrated by the enemy artist geniuses I will still have more. They’ll never find it all. Its mine, all mine I tell you. Eh he he hee heh!!
And the sad thing is its all true. I really have resorted to hoarding and hiding rubbish. Feel free to deny knowing me until Im dead and all my artwork is reverred and sells for millions – then milk our relationship for all its worth.
Tags: Ah Sweet Doolin
Em
Is your hobo lady stick sticky?
You mean my hobo stick lady stick?
Yep, its brown and sticky.
Does it have a name?
Ah sticky? But really I try to avoid naming inanimate objects as if they were real people…talking to them as if they were real friends even…cos thats just crazy. Sticky thinks thats just plain crazy too, and he should know – hes a talking stick.
Gertrude and Sven say that you crazy… Sticks don’t talk. They say that maybe that’s just the voices inside your head.
Plus, they reckon that they were artists too, once upon a time…
They use to leave rubbish in their room all the time But their mummy use to clean it up and they used to complain that they were just expressing themselves artistically and she was hindering the talents of pure geniuses.
I like the way they think!
Hari huritau ki a koe,
Hari huritau ki a koe,
Hari huritau ki a Emily,
Hari huritau ki a koe!!!!
Kiaora Nardz, Kiaora koe!