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)
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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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.
Huzzah.
( , Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:54, Reply)
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.
Huzzah.
( , Wed 28 Sep 2005, 14:54, Reply)
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