Tag Archives: art

TV ON THE INTERNET : Daniel Clowes

Leave it up to the British to turn all of our pleasures into an academic deconstruction while introducing terms like “banal insularity”. We’re insular because if we had shows like this on our American TV sets, a shitload of crock TV producers would be hanging themselves.
We jizz with happiness when we find something on YouTube that we like. Sadly, we are quickly reminded that we’re so starved for quality content on TV, we’ve had to reprogram our neurons in order to conform to watching the bulk of our media on the internet.
In “Secret of Drawing”, Art Historian and 100% BBC ALPHA MALE( see Top Gear’s uber-cock Jeremy Clarkson for further proof ), Andrew Graham-Dixon pastes together a psychological profile of selected artists as the significance of their “visual language” is discussed.
In this episode we get to see Daniel Clowes work on further molding the stereotype that all great contemporary graphic novelists a) suffer from some psychological malaise, b) have decided to dedicate their lives to a medium that will never give them the happiness that they need and that only makes them further obsessed on c) a period of time ( the 60’s/70’s for Clowes or for Ware early 20th Century) they think was better but d) don’t realize they would be miserable even if they lived in that period.

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What’s Your 10-4, HawkDick?

Yesterday I posted about the large amount of evangelical students studying Government at Patrick Henry College, the so-called “Evangelical Ivy-League.”
A few posts previous to that one was an entry about retarded people.
In this post the two converge!
And while concern over the beating that the constitution took over the last eight years burdens our souls and the injustice that disabled people are faced with make our hearts heavy, there is always the internet to remind you that the 1st Amendment is still being abused by retards like Alex Jones:

And while it is Jones right to free speech his intricate conspiracy theories that barely try to hide his deeply anti-Semitic, anti-government paranoia are hilarious. Once you get over the fact that their scary as fuck, that is.

Jones presence is strange because his basal stupidity grabs hold of your better nature and you want to think of him as Dan from Roseanne and not the strange combination of James Earl Ray and Jerry Lewis that he really is ( see roughly 3:00-3:25). Quickly that fades and you realize that before the internet Jones was probably one of those dudes who sat up all night on their CB’s scaring the shit out of people by telling them they were right outside their house in a Ford Turbo.

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Life In Real Time: Shepard Fairey Arrested

We’re not going to go into how people really don’t know Shepard Fairey because he’s been around a lot longer than those Obama paintings, man. We’re not resentful skateboarders or that weird old dude who keeps showing up at the local all ages shows looking for old friends.

But needless to say, he is the artist who made those three-toned portraits of President Obama that became a ubiquitous part of his campaign.
We will say, Props for keeping it street.
Even after a decade of heavy OBEY fame along with the more recent Obama saturation, Fairey still has time to hit the streets in order to throw up.

There is an insightful side-note to this story that can be explicated about comparative stories in the internet age– Maybe Not.

While Huffington Post claims that Fairey was arrested last traveling to the opening night of his one man show at Boston’s Institute of Contemporary Art, Juxtapoz’ blog has a story about the event without mention to his arrest.
If Fairey was arrested and then attended the event without being shook by the incident the he is a badass.
Either way, we’re proud that we live in an age where we can be told separate and equally interesting narratives about the same person on the same day: It says something about us as a society, or maybe just Fairey.

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Kanye West Continues His “Fuck-With-My-Fans” Campaign; The Decline Begins: I downloaded a Death Cab For Cutie Album

There’s been a lot of Kanye West hating going on recently– particularly from white-boys trying to gain some cred by claiming he’s mainstream. We get it, you understand the underlying socio-economic reasoning that’s driven hip hop to take it’s current form, you really feel it. But,still, you keep getting your hat stolen!!

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Check out some of the responses to this ridiculous video that Kanye made from what he claims to be a hotel room in Paris. That previous sentence seems to make me sound skeptic of his whereabouts, which I’m not. I’m more stressing the idea that people seem to accept that Kanye is out of his fucking mind, when really he is just fucking with his fan-base and with the concept of celebrity itself.

I think that Kanye at some level understands, in true Warholian fashion( or maybe more Kaufmanian), that not just the stuff you put on tape is “art” but really you can mess with the concept of people’s perceptions by conducting your life as some strange amalgamated version of Sex and the City and The Jeffersons. Kanye understands the absurd nature of unsubtantiated wealth and that rascist America is foaming at the mouth with each piece of gear the Don of Louis Vuitton buys. The end result is some strange imitation of performance art — the effect is like a visual equivalent to that overused Auto-Tune. But still, it is effecting.
Until people realize he is taking the piss, that his brand-obsession, his megalomania, are kind of a joke, an entire generation of black kids will continue to walk around looking similar to Lamar Latrell from “Revenge of the Nerds”.
Which isn’t fair for them!


Now it’s time for me to defend my cred by explaining half-heartedly why I downloaded, and then tossed, the new( i guess) Death Cab For Cutie album. And it’s not becasue Ben Gibbrad is marrying Zooey Deschanel.


I’ve avoided bands like this for a long time and my recent brush with the Gray’s Anatomy soundtrack crowd will keep me in the good — and purposeless– fight of avoiding them for a few more years. When I say bands like this, I mean the type that practice a strange act of musical-mercantilism by going into a particular music scene and stealing that group’s music, then bringing it back to the motherland to trade for gold.
That’s a bit of exaggerated.
Still, I’ve avoided ever texting FOX during American Idol feeling the act alone would bring me too close to the crime scene– that if I could remain a silent observer, I wasn’t observing at all.

But because of the TV, again, I found myself watching and liking this clip late one night when I was doing work.
And that feeling of delusion blanketed-over until the next day, where I struggled with imagining what life would be like if I weren’t such a musical dick. That if I ceased thinking good music was hard to find, I would have something more in common with the people I take the bus with, or see at my therapists office.
And so, for a few days, I struggled to listen to the album.
The thing is I don’t hate this type of music. In fact, Plans has a lot of the qualities I like in music: melodic riffs garnished with heavy pop-sensibilites, self-deprecating yet egotistical lyrical approach.
Finally I settled on a weak food analogy to settle the score I was feeling about Death Cab for Cutie. And while the following metephor is true, I’m aware that DCfC really isn’t that bad, that the problem is more me dealing with the fact that I think if I like that band, it means I’m pretty low-brow and that I have given into some type of cultural apathy.

I remember when I was a kid and my mom used to buy the no-frills Oreo’s and try to convince me they were as good as the real ones. They even said on the box, something like: compare ours, or whatever. But it was too late, I had the real ones and even though they didn’t taste different at all, I was loyal to the original brand.

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