Oh! To be an abstract painter, and a famous one at that! Oh! To wake up, rub the leftovers of my full English breakfast onto a canvas and go back to bed knowing that there will be some stupid sod who will pay millions for it just because so many other stupid sods have already bought enough of my abstract art. I have become famous, collectable, and lucky and I have a good P.R.! Then I wake up.
The reoccurring comment you hear associated with this kind of art is: What do you think the artist is saying? The truth is he is saying: Good job no-one has caught on yet. The fact is I cant really paint any decent pictures. And what about the people who buy these paintings for millions? Theres not much to say, I mean that literally, art-wise. These are people who would buy any Warhol vomit on canvas for 100 million pounds if Andy Warhols agent, for instance, said that in that picture Andy Warhol was showing us his inner turmoil.
Us, normal people, would choke laughing, but your rich, abstract buyer would say: Wow! Wrap it up, here take my million.
Thank you for giving me a personal viewing before the auction. While the agent clutches this hands and probably replies: Well, you are our most special client.
Now, I am guessing, the special super rich buyer probably has many more arse licking friends. Step forward the one who says: You paid how much for this vomit canvas? I bet no-one, in fact everybody probably praises the buyer for his keen eye for art, and so the farce continues.
Dont think this happens only in paintings. Lets talk contemporary poetry, wait a second, let me look in Google. Yes, here we
are, its called A sort of a song Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait, sleepless Ending with Saxifrage is my flower that splits the rocks What the heck is this crap? Again, if you cant
actually write good old fashioned poetry why write this kind of contemporary shit? Hey, I am sure many will say: Wow! How true, how deep! Yeah, right, so deep it has no meaning. Or perhaps you have to be soooo clever and deep to understand it? Certainly NOT, everybody should get it, that is the point. I mean what would a mothers day card be in the hands of one of these deep poets? All about suckling breasts and, milk of life? The fallopian tube of life? That would scare the living daylights out most 5 year olds.
On the one hand we had Amy Winehouse, a brilliant talented singer who died. Her songs, her voice, her music were all good. Then on the other hand, you have Lady Ga-Ga who brings out a couple of catchy songs followed by a load of trash and still expects people to buy. Lets not mention how she dresses, she looks like an explosion in a transvestite clothing warehouse.
Lets make up a word:Truthique a mix of true and critique. If its all a load of rubbish, say so!