by Jerome du Bois
Just after we dropped "The Burgeoning," about the downtown Phoenix art scene, we received several very warm and supportive emails (thank you!), and one blessing from way out of the blue (thank you, L.B.).
And then we got one more email, from an artist at Holga's named Ian A. Wender, reproduced after the jump. Behind a veneer of politeness (he calls me no names, but I will him) we see in its sadistic emotional cruelty, greasy insensitivity, ignorant arrogance, and bloated, pathetic narcissism even more proof for our case. It's also perfect counterpoint and epilogue to our most recent post, here, which you should read as background. I'm going to quote this putrid turkey in full, then I'm going to fisk him until there's nothing left but the bare bones of clarity and truth.
The callousness of these young people, in our experience, pervades our culture . . . This is the kind of consciousness we've been dealing with in downtown Phoenix:
Subject: Can't we all just get along??
From: "WENDER IAN A"
To: kinganddubois@cox.net
Mr. du Bois
I don't know you and I've only read a small portion of your recent commentary. I am a resident at Holgas and have been for the last year. I make no apologies for the state of the downtown area or those that live and work there. All I can say is that I try to do my Art in the manor [sic] that suits me best. It is, after all, an expression of my feelings and beliefs. I sweep our side walk, paint over the "tags", pick up trash and try as hard as I can to clean up after the bottle breakers leave. I'm sorry that you've been "assaulted" and I would never condone that...however, It could be argued that you asked for it. I have no objection to criticism...as a matter of fact, I welcome it. I love more then anything to see someone exercise their first amendment rights. So, Sir, this is an invitation. I am the curator of the October First Friday show at Holgas and I wish to extend a welcome to you. The show I am curating is entitled "We the People" Yes, it's campy and cliché, but it's in the spirit of the political season and, I just like it. Come down and see for yourself what we are trying to do. It may not be the "finest" art in the valley, but we are true to ourselves and our art. Please don't criticize us without getting to know us and as a courtesy, I won't threaten to break that middle finger (or fingers) you have collectively given us. Perhaps you might see us in a different light and some of this hostility will dissipate. Perhaps instead of spreading such a negative vibe, you could get involved and help us make it better. Just a thought.
Sincerely
Ian A Wender
Artist
#11 Holgas
First, the cliché in the subject line shows lazy thinking, reaching for the obvious. The answer: We're not supposed to get along. We're right, you're wrong, you need to change your shallow, unthinking ways.
I don't know you and I've only read a small portion of your recent commentary.
I am glad I don't know you and never will. Why just a "small portion" -- did your lips get tired? Did those reading to you have to go home? Was there too much splainin for your brain? It takes about a hour at the most to read our six articles on downtown, to which you seem to have such a commitment (such a diligent sweeper). You can't be bothered to read much of my stuff, but I'm supposed to take you seriously? I read books for breakfast, but you can't read five thousand words? You're a pissant, Ian, an ignorant peasant with words, way below intellectual minor league, and those are just the first of many epithets I'm sending your way.
I am a resident at Holgas and have been for the last year. I make no apologies for the state of the downtown area or those that live and work there.
No apologies. Gotcha. Stand your greasy ground.
All I can say is that I try to do my Art in the manor [sic] that suits me best.
I think you mean "manner," man, because you don't live in no manor, man, knowhudImean? All I can say is that I believe you: what suits you best is living an artist manqué life, the communal infusions from other anxious wannabes insuring minimal levels of quality, fluctuations well within the parameters of the warning bells of the fragile but crucial self-esteem of The Collective. This keeps the vibe comfortable, not competitive, even if the art is from hunger. Holga's is partytime, postgraduate crib-gilding, and that's why you're there. Real artists don't want cachet, they don't want to party, they want to work.
It is, after all, an expression of my feelings and beliefs.
Awwww . . . And? You epitomize the students my wife and I and many teachers have had to face countless times: no epistemological grounding, no roots in reality, no deep emotional or empirical reasons for these feelings and beliefs: you've found them, like a hyena coming upon unexpected meat; and your parents praised you; now you know they're valuable -- feelings, beliefs -- but you don't know really know what they are. (If you did, you would not have written your email.) Also, just because you have feelings and beliefs, we have to pay attention to them? I mean, everybody got to make room for Ian? We're busy, you know? World's big, you're small. Your feelings won't -- ever -- steer the world. We need more important concepts for the future than your foolish and adolescent beliefs, which retard the life force.
I sweep our side walk, paint over the "tags", pick up trash and try as hard as I can to clean up after the bottle breakers leave. I'm sorry that you've been "assaulted" and I would never condone that...however, It could be argued that you asked for it.
Well, Ian, we've reached it so soon: your resinous black heart, I mean. You sound just like a hitter. We write about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and you're right there, looming, with both fists, in the classic mode: You must have liked it. If you have a partner in your life, I fear for her or his safety.
I'm sorry that you've been "assaulted" . . .
No, dildo, we were not "assaulted," we were assaulted. Shove your minimizing quotes. And you're not sorry, liar, you're snickering.
. . . it could be argued that you asked for it.
Precisely in which ways could such an argument proceed, should you ever become intelligent enough to frame one? Of all the things you could have said to anyone associated with pain -- immediately after I wrote about the lacerations of people like you -- you come through like the self-centered shitbrain you are and repeat the worst thing you could say to someone with PTSD. (But no, the worst is yet to come, isn't it? The Invitation!)
We write words, Ian. Should we be assaulted for that? Actually, I'm not asking you -- I wouldn't ask you for the time -- I am appealing to any rational readers out there. Actually, I'm not appealing either; I'm just witnessing to the reptilian, limbic cruelty in many young people who have emailed us or commented on this blog before we shut them down. This particular asafoetidan mammal represents only the latest in a disappointing generation, their emotions like blackened stumps, callused long ago.
Other readers: I hope you see the manifold, suffocating cruelty of Ian's statements. Reread the whole email. ("Just a thought," he ends, as if everything is la-dee-dah. What the fuck? By the time I'm done reading I'm seething, but to him it's just a thought.)
I have no objection to criticism...as a matter of fact, I welcome it. I love more then anything to see someone exercise their first amendment rights. So, Sir, this is an invitation. I am the curator of the October First Friday show at Holgas and I wish to extend a welcome to you.
No, no, no, liar. What you what, Wender, is King & du Bois captured forever on your buddies' Samsung camera phones while Pete Petrisko or some other not-so-merry prankster delivers the goods.
Not only that, you step over every objection, every fact, every bit of rage and reason, to extend an invitiation, because, after all, it's about you. I mean, you, Ian A. Wanker Wender. Only, when I Google your name, I see nothing about you or your art. You can't be serious. I'm serious: you cannot be a serious artist. A serious artist in the 21st Century has a website, no matter what. Even some of your dumbass friends have websites. We don't even have a gallery or gallery blog anymore, but you can still see five or six of our pieces in a recent post. Whaddayou got? Nothing! And we're supposed to take you seriously? Twit.
Vicious twit. First you minimize our assault, say we had it coming, then extend your hand. If you don't see the sociopathy in that sequence, you prove my point.
The show I am curating is entitled "We the People" Yes, it's campy and cliché, but it's in the spirit of the political season and, I just like it. Come down and see for yourself what we are trying to do. It may not be the "finest" art in the valley, but we are true to ourselves and our art.
Oh, you're a curator, too? Yawn.
. . . is entitled "We the People" Yes, it's campy and cliché, but it's in the spirit of the political season and, I just like it. . .
If you've read our recent series on "Democracy in America" -- oh, but you don't read much -- well, if you had, you would know how we feel about this country. To us, We the People verge on sacred words, the most profound expression of E Pluribus Unum. Calling this spirit "campy and cliché" is no way to appeal to us. Once again, your narcissism inflates like a helium balloon and blinds you to anything but you: I just like it.
Come down and see for yourself what we are trying to do. It may not be the "finest" art in the valley, but we are true to ourselves and our art. Please don't criticize us without getting to know us and as a courtesy, I won't threaten to break that middle finger (or fingers) you have collectively given us.
We aim the middle fingers, four of them, at each and every member of and volunteer at Artlink. Not you, tadpole, unless you're one of them. And you couldn't get close enough to carry out your threat anyway.
. . . see for yourself what we are trying to do . . . we are true to ourselves and our art. Please don't criticize us without getting to know us . . .
You act like you're still in school -- Teacher, Teacher, look what I did! We've gotten this pathetic "get to know us" crap before, from Jason Moore. Who cares who you are? It's about the art -- actual objects -- not the scene; it's not about you you you the wonder of you! You punks live in a dream world.
Perhaps you might see us in a different light and some of this hostility will dissipate. Perhaps instead of spreading such a negative vibe, you could get involved and help us make it better. Just a thought.
Once again it's all about you -- your crew, your scene. I shudder at the thought of even breathing the same air as you people, so that won't ever happen, but just imagine I got involved -- what do I get out of it, hmmm? I go down there and spread the good cheer to a bunch of spoiled brats half my age for their comfort, and I get . . . nothing but shafted again. NO.
I've given you pearls here, swine, none of which you deserve or will learn from.
Two final things:
You ignored Catherine King completely. Typical of the new misogyny. I'll bet the so-called women in your scene are as spineless as you are cruel. But it is a good idea to stay away from Catherine King.
You blithely publish your address, no problem. If we did the same . . . bloodshed. You see the difference between what you do and what we do? What you do is inconsequential, what we do is in the name of important, palpable principles.
I suppose I should thank you for providing us a prime biopsy of the malignancy in downtown Phoenix, but what I really want to say is, You must change your ways. Read today's tagline above: What goes around, comes around. Unlike you and your crew, it's not a cliché.
Posted by Jerome at September 16, 2004 08:38 AM | TrackBack