Thursday, July 08, 2004

'all art is quite useless' - oscar wilde

I think that the hallmark of a classic joke is one where it remains funny even when only the punchline is told. This can be so effective that it makes the rest of the joke redundant. My own personal favourite:

'Because William Shatner!"

Other points. Now for some reason this bloke wrote everything down. What a mammoth blog that must be. This wonderful thing is from fluxblog and it's Frank Black Francis with Two Pale Boys.

I often find myself regaling you with tales of local shindiggery and today is no different. This week it is the local 'art show' and it's one which enjoys a fairly wholesome reputation far and, indeed, wide. On the surface it appears to offer an intoxicating blend of high art from trained professionals, to the kind of crap fourteen year olds knock out for their GCSE mocks. Nevertheless, there must be something to it because on at least two occasions when I've been present I've spotted the Human League's Sir Philip of Oakey having a browse... or a least trying to take a coy peek from under his lop-sided, er, skinhead. Anyway, the 'show' is, of course, simply an opportunity for the local faux artistes to slap each other on the back and pretend that they're all tortured and earnest and on the breadline, despite the fact that mater and pater usually own a chain of hotels and give their talented little gems all the rent from their clutch of trendy cottages, under-dwellings and farm-houses to tide them over and keep them in Corbieres, weed and enviro-friendly nappies for Cinnamon and Poppy-Anna.

The mechanism for getting stuff on display in this show is fabulously arcane. On a gloomy day in mid-winter you have to present yourself at the local branch of Lloyds TSB (Why? Dunno) to collect and complete an entry form which enables you to submit up to 2 pieces of work. These forms are usually all gone by lunchtime and that's it for another year. Or so you think. Come July, when you get to the show, you find all the local members of the scene that celebrates itself have got oodles of items up for sale. In some cases, the work is excellent, in others (and here I'm specifically referencing the framed, knitted sheep-heads that are always miraculously sold out before even the 'private view') it is dire.

In short, it's a week long party for a bunch of lazy gits who don't really need or want to work but parade around telling everyone that they're artists. What's more, it's damn annoying that some of the work is so good I end up buying it. Doh!