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This is a question Pretentious bollocks

Possibly the worst event I ever went to was an evening of turntablists in London. The lights went down, the first guy put a cymbal onto a turntable, dropped the needle on it and left it making screeching noises for ten minutes.

When the lights came up, half the audience had snuck out.

What's the most pretentious rubbish you've ever been to see in the name of art?

(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:19)
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Captn Hood
I agree fella - there was a story a while back about a chap visiting the Tate modern who while sitting down in the turbine room lost his wallet

came back after going for pish and realising he'd lost it to find 20 odd people staring at something on the floor and walking round it

his wallet was deemed 'inspiring'

(urban myth possibility: High/V High)
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:32, Reply)
I visited the Tate Modern a few years ago
There were these two guys taliking about one of the exhibits....
"The smooth curving lines give it a sort of majesty"
"Oh yes and the way the artist has managed to get so much life to the piece"
They went on like this for a few minutes before moving on. For fuck sake, it was a fucking urinal. Honest a solitry wall mounted piss pot. Now call be old fashioned, but when does a urinal become art. No don't answer that.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:29, Reply)
Apocalypse now
A shrieking "look at me" actress friend of a friend was involved in a play at a small theatre in Hoxton (of course), that explored the notion of "life following the apocalypse".

It began predictably enough with the sound of howling wind, and a girl in a white dress centre stage slowly moving her arms and sobbing.

All kinds of things happened, but the high spot was when one man with a giant fork attached to his head fought a man with a giant spoon on his. They were broken up by an angry chainsaw-wielding bearded man wearing a black strap-on prosthetic cock.

Our friend's role was "girl in sandpit". She had to sit in a sandpit in a nightie shouting "WHY? WHY?" every so often. It was quite good because you could see her nipples.

Afterwards she bounded over and asked what we thought; we shuffled nervously and said it was very interesting - how was she finding it? She replied "It's so rewarding but God it's draining - I have two performances per week".

If this is the apocalypse then roll on doomsday.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:26, Reply)
That Japanese/oriental bloke
Who wanders up and down Piccadilly Circus staring at people from behind a sign that reads "Odd Erection". He's got "Odd Erection" T-shirts too now. I have no idea what he's even supposed to be...
[edit]Google found this picture of him on someone's blog. Still none the wiser.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:25, Reply)
Glastonbury Festival
in any year has its fair share of pretentious arty wank, the cabaret and circus tent is the epicentre of it all. Mime anyone.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:24, Reply)
my mother described that very same performance of the dancing bollocks as 'narcissitic' . it was bollocks.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:22, Reply)
Some actual bollocks, displayed for pretentious purpose - an art / testicle double whammy
The Tate Modern, the official English home of pretentious bollocks, features several modern installation pieces.

Loops of video are a favourite medium; usually abstract images fluttering around the screen and some nice trippy music.

I wandered into one such enclave out of which was emanating soothing classical music. 'Aha', thinks the IMD, 'a chance to sit down and get cosy with my cute French ladyfriend.'

Alas, no. The video was of a skinny, bearded man dancing merrily away in somebodys trendy artist's loft apartment, completely starkers save for a pair of trainers. Check one: We have bollocks, swinging away as they 'perform their own interpretation' of the music.

The 'art' element was the subtle irony that while the listener was cosseted by smooth strains of classical music, the dancer was in fact, raving his very visible hairy bollocks off to stomping techno music, which of course, the audience can't hear. Check two: We have pretentiousness.

I award myself a whopping 2/2 for my answer and therefore command you click...
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:19, Reply)
That's Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts... They took over the student union on our favourite indie night one week to do a gig for four local bands. Each band got progressively worse as the night went on. All the while these lovey actor types are wandering around with handbag drinks talking about how good it is to see local music being promoted. Literally 5 minutes after the last set all us regulars lurched out of the corners in our scruffiest indie wears and they all turned their noses up and left.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:18, Reply)
I was dragged to one of those art thing places once.
It was all bollocks until I saw one particular piece that grabbed my attention.
It didn't have a title so I named it
"Confused-looking northern bloke with kebab remnants on shirt"

Oh, how we laughed when I found out it was just a mirror.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:18, Reply)
Actor/musician selling signed t-shirts with his screen-printed face on the front, for 70 pounds (70 pounds !!! ) at ATP festival, before last.

He cleared the dance floor with his music in about 10 seconds as well..
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:16, Reply)
Galileo Galilei the opera
What a load of old shite.

Could have saved myself a wasted evening if I'd read this review.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:14, Reply)
Venezuela and holes
The Venezuelan consulate offices in W1 are sometimes use for art exhibition.
Opening nights are usually good as anyone can walk in, the booze in free and you can mingle with the ambassador (no Rochers though).
I once had the pleasure of attending a piece of performance art where 2 naked women threw orange juice and shouted at each other.
The ambassador was not impressed.

I also had to watch a friend of mine digging holes in the name of conceptual art, unfortunately, as they were doing it over 24hrs I never stayed to witness the completed hole
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:14, Reply)
(oh 'been' to see - *reads question title more closley')
micheal lumb, performance artist. this was some years before vulva, but heh.

sitting in a sandpit. cerimoniously pegged his feet and then his hands into the sand and sat there. and sat there

then some middle aged woman 'in touch' with 'the performance' started to organise a vigil, just as the sun went down and it started to rain, so they could stay with the artist all night. twunt.

luckilly some level headed bugger started to pull the pegs out to 'release' micheal.

he said later he was willing to stay as long as tyhe vigil lasted - - performance art brinkmanship.

again. twunt.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:08, Reply)
Tracy Emin

anything by this "woman"

one of the few people to make me want to punch the television when I see her on it.

...utter, utter shit.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 15:00, Reply)
a short note to drama students outside 'rehersal rooms' (read catholic church hall in chiswick)
rehersing lines loudly in public or even doing 'voice warmup' is cringemaking to watch/walk home past.

we know your are at acting school. we can tell by your haircuts and the way you sneakily look to see if anyone is watching you while you rehearse/play fight/flirt in the road.

but know this, most of you will part with vast sums of cash, given to 'the school' or 'your agent' or your 'photographer' or 'your pimp' without the chance of getting any of this money back via the medium you are training for.

youll end up like ricky gervias in extras, cynical and jaded. but without any of the talent.

get a proper job.

( and before the failed actor backlash starts, i have been involved in 'interactive public performances' so pretentious that i feel like i want to cut myself to take my mind off the memory - oh the shame i just hope nobody will recognise me from the improve shit i did in tokyo joes, or edwards in hammersmith. or hyde park. or the thetre in wimbledon..... *shudders* )
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:59, Reply)
to do with here
my mate works at the box office I could have as many comp tickets as I wanted. I mean just look at it. The Mark Morris Dance Group: The programme concludes with a welcome revival of the humourous The ‘Tamil Film Songs in Stereo’ Pas de Deux. For Fucks Sake.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:57, Reply)
What can you expect?!??!
My sister and I went to see that dead body exhibition thing, by that mad German Dr who 'plasticises' and manipulates dead bodies into all manner of interesting poses, a few years ago in London. That wasn't the pretentious bit - that was highly amusing. It was the group of about 5 or 6 up their own arse, pretentious to the point of painfulness, beard stroking wankers who insisted on spending their visit loudly talking utter shite about each thing they saw and finding meanings that the rest of us were certain did not exist. Not only that but as some of the exhibits were excruciatingly funny (to the point where I thought I was going to burst my shite laughing) we also had to put up with their 'they know not what they do' looks and lots of loud tutting.

It did make me feel slightly better, however, when we met them on the way out and I politely informed them that I paid my admission fee and could laugh as loud as I chuffing well liked at the man with the dangley bollocks.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:56, Reply)
The Greatest Living Artist of his Generation
About 8 years ago I had a bit of a turn and thought I'd re-invent myself from a web page monkey into "The Greatest Living Artist of his Generation."

I photoshopped up X-rays of my arse with objects shoved up them. Did an alphabet, "A is for abacus" etc. Printed it on acetate and backlit it. I titled it, "My arse, a retrospective. A retrosepctive, my arse."

I sort to follow on from my fantastically successful first exhibition (er.. Insisting it was stuck on my mates wall, and sticking a 50k price tag on it.) with

* dreams of building a huge wicker Model T and filling it full of cars and burning it. Some kind of protest againts the Oil industry or something.

* a huge statue of me with my bronze cock out in the centre of Wolverhampton. "Portrait of an artist as a well hung man" It would spunk ball bearings on national holidays I think.

* there was definately something about getting my head on stamps. I remember posting letters to friends with my own stamps.

Then I calmed down a bit a realised I was being a pretentious twat and realised I could muck about on the web instead and we don't have to call it art, we can call it bollocks.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:54, Reply)

(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:54, Reply)
I agree
wholeheartedly with TBL.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:51, Reply)
Modern Ballet
Went to the Royal Opera House because we have been given three tickets (apparently cost £100) each to a performance of three modern ballets. Now I must confess to not really being a fan of ballet anyway but I have never seen such absolute crap in my entire life. Queue some oldish looking woman laying down in a tutu at the top of some steps as three blokes in different coloured leotards run in circles.....for about twenty minutes.....

Don't know what the other two ballets were as we left to go to the nearest pub and get trollied.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:45, Reply)
anything whatsover to do with
the Turner prize.

The end.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:43, Reply)
Come to my college
you see tonnes of the stuff

[mod edit] Excellent. So describe some of it...
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:43, Reply)
In the tate modern you can see
a glass of water on a shelf 9ft high up.

but, the twunt that made it says hes changed the idea of it into a tree. But he's not changed the form and thats why you see a glass of water. but its not a glass of water its a tree.

One dry slap with a fist on order.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:35, Reply)
At the Laing Gallery in Newcastle
During an exhibition involving modern sculpture, somebody had put a rock on an empty pedestal waiting for its display to arrive.

At least 10 people wandered over to it, and mused stroking their chins for a few minutes discussing its artistic merits.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:33, Reply)
My sister once dragged me along to...
... some bloody awful theatre thing in London - "Loophole Cinema" or something. Loads of people spouting bollocks and jumping around. Most of the audience were laughing... not because it was funny... but because it was so awful. The worst part was that these morons thought they were making some big statement...

It reminded me of the episode of Spaced where Brian goes to see 'Vulva' perform...
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:31, Reply)
anything in a photographic gallery with a couple of hundred words of bollocks underneath, inevitably including the word "semiotics" ... woo, 3rd

erse, 4th
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:28, Reply)
go figure
naturally nature made rocks. isnt that fun?
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:28, Reply)
Two words...
...Mark Rothko
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:25, Reply)
Pretentious bollocks you say?
I saw a foxhunt once.
(, Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:24, Reply)

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