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February 27, 2015 - mirrormirror -

last time I visited the opening of an art show, I accidentally farted and turned the venue into a shithole, right before I realised, that the whole art-world is a shithole . . .

I went to another art show two days ago. it was time for ‘THIS IS THE TIME’, the in capital letters praised exhibition honouring one of the greatest but dead shining lights of the art world: Jean-Michel Basquiat!

the hype is so hyper, that I decided not to come up here with more bullshit about this poor black rebel. nevertheless I’d like to squeeze out some stinky air about all the farts coming out of this disoriented event:

it confused me quite a bit when I saw a collection of photographs of tags and other graffiti the OCAD-security-unit took. they’re hanging in one of the school buildings completed with a note saying that ‘the costs for cleaning the walls are covered with YOUR tuition money’. |
art school, graffiti, tagging, well, one could imagine the heads of that renowned art- and design-school would let the children play, but no, they get them by their balls instead, or their parents balls and make them pay for such desolate scribbling all over the place.
funny, that right around the corner, literally next door the Art Gallery of Ontario is hosting the work of an artist, who has his roots in New York’s graffiti scene and who tried most of his short life to show the – success longing – art world both of his middle fingers. that’s just one thing I don’t understand, the other one I don’t wanna accept was waiting along the inescapable route the gallery makes you walk: the ’boutique’ section. I knew merchandising can be a pot of gold, especially when most people can never afford to buy originals. I understand prints make sense to hang them in the kitchen or the living room. but t-shirts, plates, fridge magnets, buttons and candles? them I don’t understand. candles? for what? a tiny monument for the martyr of the black artists community of the 80s on your dining table? buttons and shirts to what? declare solidarity with an artist, who was fighting his entire life against racism and against a world in which the white men is ruling and always privileged? yes I do declare solidarity! but I have to throw up when I think about the strategy behind all that jam. it’s about milking the bones of a golden cow, raping a heritage of a lost painter with a greater sense for injustice and unfairness of a capitalistic and hierarchical than most of the leeches, who are trying to cut off a tiny peace of the fortune he left behind. it’s a shame and it’s ugly to imagine how art-pieces turn into frames packed with dollar signs. art dealers, cold and evil, they are the masters of puppets, pulling the strings and raising children to obedient artists to dump them if they don’t play after their rules any more.

‘THIS IS THE TIME’ is the name of a show carrying big messages, trying to spread deep thoughts, preaching equality between the people of the world. the moment I walked in it reminded me of Michael Jacksons final tour (he never played) named ‘THIS IS IT’, his appearance during early press conferences was devastating, he was more artificial avatar than himself, he was what the music industry made out of him over decades, a monster of pop, that tried to hide and was haunted for a life time until he found peace in it’s cold and dark grave.

the art-world is a world of playgrounds. kids play on these playgrounds with different toys, but there’s also a bunch of bullies and grown-ups, who take the toys they want and beat the shit out of the ones trying to defend themselves. nowadays every single artist has their bullies, boys and girls with sharp teeth, no scruple and the will to kill. if you’re not submissive they’ll pick on you, they’ll try to crush you. don’t let them crush you!

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