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Geez, it's depressing what this stuff says about us. The definition of "art" becomes "anything produced by an Approved Artist," nothing less or more. If I showed up at the Frieze Gallery trying to sell them a piece of shit on a plate, they'd laugh in my face. If I produced documentation proving that the plate had in fact been shat upon by Andy Warhol, it would suddenly be Art and worth a fortune. If I revealed that I had faked the documentation, it would suddenly be worthless again--unless the whole routine had attracted enough attention for the art world to crown me a Designated Artist, in which case anything I smeared shit on henceforth would become, by fiat, Art. There is literally no quality intrinsic to the work itself that contributes to its status as Art. Traditionally someone says "Hah, I could have made that," and someone else smiles smugly and says "Yes, but you didn't, did you?" The thing is, it wouldn't matter if I had. I'm not an Artist, so wouldn't be Art. Art is reduced to nothing more than a subset of Celebrity. Richard Prince could print out this post and sell it for $50,000. |
I believe that if one thinks about art in a deeply personal way, everyone has the spark of an artist and everything they do can be artful. With art everywhere, art feels far more alive. I believe that art is the humanness left behind in an artifact by its creator that has no significance except that a human being put it there. Objects that have no meaning except that a human being made them feel powerful. They are human subjectivity rendered tangible. To bear one is to bear something deeply strange and wholly familiar.