I Don’t Know If It’s Art, But I Know What’s Retarded

By Tresckow

I’m not an art fan. I don’t pretend to be one. My programing is heavier on the concrete, fact based side of life. That’s just how it is. I can appreciate good art. Who doesn’t love a Dogs Playing Poker piece or a velvet Elvis painting?

Breath taking.
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Alright, so I may not be able to derive the symbolism of a painting of a bowl of fruit or a free standing wood sculpture of a windmill made of clown heads. But, in general, I like to think I have an “everyman” sense of taste recognition. There are some things out there that are just plain ass kicking awesome.

Yup, I can dig this. Michelangelo went blind for this. Makes you wonder why he didn’t invent goggles.
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There’s no friggin code in this, Dan Brown.

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Who the hell are you kidding, Duchamp? More like Douche-chump.

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They say art is in the eye of the beholder. Well, when I was strong armed into going to one of the nation’s most famous art museums, I beheld crap. Tell me what talent goes into sculpting a gigantic red letter R? How, exactly, is a map of the United States completely fashioned from license plates NOT a shitty cop out? Don’t get me started on that pretentious douche bag Andy Warhol.

It’s a SOUP CAN you yuppie retards! A SOUP CAN!
If my kid tried to pull this bullshit and call it art, I’d send his ass to military school.
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Needless to say, what I saw outright perplexed me. Not only have some of these nose picking wondertards get away with this shit, but there are tens of thousands of assholes that BELIEVE they get some secret meaning or message that the common man couldn’t possibly understand. Oh, I understand, buddy. I understand you’re banana sandwich making batshit nuts.

How many times can one critique a painting of an apple? Seriously, there is a shit ton of artists that have painted a shit ton of apples. They call it still life. I call it bullshit. Think you’re so damn cultured? OK, wise ass, which apple below is art and which one isn’t?

 

Apple #1 Or Apple #2?

Give up?

If you guessed that Apple #1 is not art and is, indeed a photo of an honest to goodness apple, hit your head against the desk as hard as you can. WRONG! The first image is some still life bullshit that oddly centers on still life that looks exactly like a damn picture. Apple #2 is actually an image of a Rome apple found on the Washington Apple Commission’s variety page. Feel art smart yet? Sure you do, you lying bastard.Perhaps the only canvas art more infuriating than myriads of apples on tables, apples in bowls, apples with pears, and apples with touch screens are the plethora of awkward and straight forward odd paintings of supposed human beings. I listened to the MP3 the museum staff strapped on us like National Geographic explorers tagging radio transmitter collars on polar bears. The collection of dry, unfunny, painfully pompous “experts” droned on and on about the “cheeky, ” “bold, ” and “brazen” ways artists like Cezanne painted goofy ass portraits of the human form that couldn’t exist in real time or space. Maybe the message is wasted on me. Maybe Cezanne couldn’t really draw people so he made up some cock and bull story about the figures representing “harmony” and “peace.” No, that dude stomping around the beach isn’t grossly disproportionate, he’s “powerful” and a “liberation to young artists of the time.” Shit, I guess I have a completely different definition of liberation.

Liberation of Paris. Hmmm, I guess the French forgot that a bunch of
stupid Brits and Americans saved them from the Germans. Strange.
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The Soviet “liberation” of Auschwitz.
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The Beatnik liberation? This is one of the “liberation” events the disembodied voice on the MP3
was talking about? “Beatnik” was code for unemployed, speed balling slacker.

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So, what? I don’t get art? BFD. But friends, Romans, countrymen, shut your yaps for a second and hear me. Or, at the very least, take a look at this shit Cezanne cranked out.

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The Bather (1855 – 1857)

This portrays a man in thought. I’m not so sure it’s the man in the painting as it was Cezanne, five days before his deadline.

SHIT! I suck at drawing torsos. Why the fuck did I make his hands red? Was there a murder I forgot to depict? Fuck it. He’s thinking. Yeah… he’s in a state of deep contemplation. That’ll work. Then no one will realize the poorly drawn mini skirt around his junk.

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Bather With Outstretched Arms (1877-1878)

Yup, another male bather getting ready for a dip in his birthday suit. Cezanne’s love for “active” male bathers was only trumped by his complete lack of pizazz for their titles. I half expected to see one of his slap together finger paintings titled: “Rectangular canvas with paint and… shit.”

What was really going on in Cezanne’s head:

Shit! Why the fuck do I keep painting bathers? And males ones at that. The Realtor told me this goddamn house had a view of a nude beach. Fucker didn’t say it was an all male nude beach. Alright, what’s that dude doing over there? Windmills? Why is a full grown adult spinning windmills on the beach? Oh, I didn’t see the bicycle helmet near by. Is that Zola‘s kid. Ah shit, it is. That kid isn’t playing with a full deck. OK, fuck it. The whole thing looks like a retarded kid pretending to be an airplane (whatever that is, right?). I’ll smudge up the face a little so you can’t tell it’s Zippy the Pinhead over there. Damn it! The shorts still look like a friggin mini skirt. WTF?

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Canuck Yankee Lumberjack at Old Orchard Beach, Maine’

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Now this one isn’t even one of Cezanne’s pieces. It’s actually a work by Marsden Hartley, an American Modernist painter who was introduced to his life’s work via Cezanne and another nut job, Picasso. For the most part, Hartley went his own way with literature and travels. But he sure had enough time to kill to pretty much duplicate the work of one of his idols. Take a look at that painting above. Notice something familiar?

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How about that shit? If Hartley was sitting beside Cezanne in art class and these two paintings were handed in, some American Modernist would have a date with a suspension.

 I’ve got it! I’ll call it a tribute! Yeah, it influenced me. Yeah, that’s the ticket. See? There’s the same mini skirt dealy only mine is hot pink. It’s a homage! Yeah, yeah. That’s the ticket!

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Posted on November 21, 2009, in Observations and aggravations, Tresckow. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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