Posts Tagged ‘art’

Dude, You Are Totally Racist Against Zombies

Thursday, August 14th, 2008

Dinosaur Comics has a new competitor in postmodern weirdness. Not new new, exactly, but new to me. Thinkin’ Lincoln is a webcomic dedicated to the disembodied heads of various historical figures and their hastily drawn antics. Example here. Together with Dinosaur Comics, Thinkin’ Lincoln creates a subgenre of humour that’s 50% lazy artistry and 50% gags that shouldn’t work but do. These boys make postmodern a freakin’ verb:

I hadn’t heard of Gregor MacGregor until Dinosaur Comics postmoderned him.

White Ninja Comics and anything you find in the back page of the Daily Texan aren’t part of this group. Where’s the 50% funny?

Boo-Urns

Sunday, May 18th, 2008

Orchestral music has become a historical artifact. People come up in their finest attire to observe silently from a distance as if the men and women were in a glass box. At some point we started experiencing obligation to appreciate what we see and hear in artistic performances. Anything less would produce hurt feelings—heaven forbid!

Concert-goers didn’t used to be this way. Emotional reaction from audiences were commonplace to the point that composers feared their reactions. Stravinsky’s 1913 première of The Rite of Spring resulted in public, violent rioting. More importantly, music was not a presentation piece; it was a way to socialise, see, and be seen. Prior to the 20th century, it was encouraged to converse, stand up, and walk around during an opera. Today, chatting to the guy next to you during live classical music is akin to pulling down an Elgin Marble and taking a poo on it.

Orchestras have much to learn from the customs of this generation and, surprisingly, many preceding it. I don’t go to rock concerts because of the music—I have the MP3s and good speakers to boot. Instead, I go to concerts to move and live with the crowd. Meanwhile, sitting in a dark concert hall is uncomfortable and awkward. Yes, the music’s pretty—it doesn’t stop my eyes from wandering, desperately seeking amusement. I don’t advocate laser light shows to accompany Mahler’s 5th Symphony. (I bet Gus would approve if it were suggested.) The act of concertgoing would benefit from deformalisation. The sooner orchestras stop being wrapped up in how sacred their work is, the more effectively we can heal the rift between contemporary genres and classical music.

Deformalisation would break down the sense of obligation as well. Patrons visit concert halls to appreciate music, and it would take sheer musical butchery to leave the goal unfulfilled. Changing attitudes to accomodate pursuing amusement instead of appreciation carries a bonus: if a patron comes to be amused and is not indulged, his time and money is being wasted. If Michael Richards can’t get away with disregarding his audience, why should your favourite local orchestra? Booing and showing displeasure towards repulsive contemporary music is the only way for a crowd to communicate its sentiments of the moment. You can’t write a letter from the mezzanine, and even the laziest slob with some musical sense has a say.

In hindsight, my reforms produce an amusing double-edged sword of theatre-going. On one hand, I insist people should go to have fun and listen casually. On the other hand, consider the responsibility of booing down bad music, preventing it from reaching future music appreciation classes in which it shouldn’t belong. If the partition bothers you, throwing chairs always speaks louder than words!

1UP

Tuesday, March 18th, 2008

Continuing the thread of disturbing renditions of Super Mario, there’s also very gay steel worker Mario. Normally I would proclaim this another idea seized by Rule #34 of the Internet. ((Every time I google rule 34 in search of links that define the concept, the top hits never fail to be grosser than before. So, like I need to warn you: clicking on the above link is not a good idea.)) In this case I saw this picture set long enough ago that it actually predates the Rule. But universal gravitation existed before Newton, yes?

Good Artists Copy, Great Artists Steal

Monday, March 17th, 2008

Steve Jobs once said, ‘Good artists copy. Great artists steal.’ Or was it Picasso who said that? Never mind. On the Internet, it’s ‘Good artists use Photoshop. Great artists use 4chan.’

A talented Photoshop artist created this nauseating but flawlessly photorealistic likeness of Super Mario. Another, even more talented artist not only claimed the work as his own, but built up a complex, fraudulent back story to it. Unfortunately, between this morning and now, the latter has ‘fessed up and taken ‘his’ work down. (His excuse: if it’s on 4chan, it must be public domain, right? Right?) In the interim he had built up pages and pages of comments, starting off with holy praise and ending with death threats. After the takedown, all that remains on his deviantart profile is an empty gallery and, amongst other items, a cleavage-enhanced rendition of Sally from Sonic the Hedgehog,  the darkest cartoon series Saturday mornings have ever known.

Yes, But Is It Arse?

Wednesday, October 17th, 2007

The best thing about contemporary art is that it acts as a random noun generator. Perhaps you will recall Chris Ofili, creator of the Virgin Mary made of poo and pornography. Whatever an artist’s motives are, nothing else in the realm of reality would bring the nouns Virgin Mary, poo, and pornography together into the same sentence. (Well, not nothing, but do you really want to think about what might?)

Another artist you might want to consider when you need an example of a sentence that is syntactically correct but somehow doesn’t register in the brain is Paul McCarthy of Salt Lake City, Utah. His art is part performance, part…body fluid. One journal tries and fails to describe his actions in words:

In Class Fool, for example, McCarthy flung himself around a classroom at the University of California, San Diego. Slipping in ketchup, dazed and bleeding from falling and running into things, McCarthy vomited several times, after which he inserted a Barbie doll into his rectum. The performance ended when the audience, unable to stomach the performance any longer, left the room.