by Jerome du Bois
So I got a pseudonymous comment on "Stinky Skool," which I made clear was not based on a gallery visit but a newspaper article:
Now we know how low the bar can go --I think. It may go lower: since five15 won't post any images of the exhibition, I rely on Lengel's descriptions of three items, which, as I mentioned above, are enough to outline the key to this downtown crew.
The comment:
So you're saying that you're bitching about a show you haven't even seen yet?
I don't know why these idiotas keep trying to guilt-trip us, and pretend at the same time that I didn't write what I wrote.
The piece was about the antihuman and self-loathing mentality that considers such skanky themes --"What Smells So Bad?"-- worthy of artistic effort. Three examples were plenty to illustrate, and criticize, the theme, and the notion of themes themselves. Instead of addressing these topics, the commenter --who knows who it is? who talks directly to a cartoon character?-- tries to imply that I can't make a judgment until and unless I see the show.
Again, the stink of school: it's like Parents' Night: you have to go, otherwise you hurt their wittle self-esteems. And if I did go --never happen-- what? Being in the presence of the actual artworks would cause the callous scales to fall from my eyes, and I'd see the light?
Never happen.
Not with these no-talents.
But there's more. five15 doesn't pass the Internet Test. Why do they not post the show on their website? At least one image of each artwork, complete with dimensions and media? Are they afraid that if people saw what the show looked like, they would stay away? Well, isn't that the chance you take? And aren't these five15 people proud of what they do? You'd think they would be eager to post those images, but no. Not one. Just the skunky poster.
But there's more in the commenter's taunt. Some of them want us down there to punk us, or confront us, or photosnap us, or gang up on us. Forget it. But think about this, too: getting anyone down there into the gallery, much less the bathroom, is punking you enough, innit? No matter what's in there, now you've joined them, now you're with them, now you're with the offal and the garbage.
And they love it, they wallow in The Rebarb. That's what it's always about with this crew: when they look within, all they see is worms. And they think everybody's like that, but that's only because they can't see the broken hearts still beating, nor the golden tears still flowing, and they would never think that any wind they felt could come from invisible wings.
Posted by Jerome at August 6, 2007 08:30 PM | TrackBack