…that the sanity level in the human race gets lower and lower.
You know, I will be the first to admit that I don’t “get” a lot of performance art. I suppose my brain functions on a more logic-geared blueprint than is required for such art. I’d like to say it’s because I outgrew that stage in my life where I looked for deep meaning and hidden subtext in such things, but honestly I don’t think I ever was in that stage. I blame it all on the drugs I didn’t take. It’s not that I don’t think it’s good to spark conversations or force people to look beyond the status quo; I’m all about that. Does smearing feces on a painting urge me “to move beyond the superficial material plane to a higher level of spiritual contemplation”? Uh…not really. In fact, it makes me think “Damn. If that’s all it takes to get some sort of fame…why didn’t I think of that?” It also makes me wonder both where the ‘artist’ procured said dung, and whether or not he wore gloves while handling it. (I really am no fun for these artists.)
So I’m not really surprised that the latest controversy-inducing artist to pop out on the scene decided to raise the bar in terms of “how can I possibly disgust people even more”, as the elephant dung, while getting some people’s knickers in a twist, was fleeting. And if you’re going to be a fame whore, by all means BE a fame whore. That leads us to our latest story . Add one woman, donor sperm, a turkey baster, and herbal abortifacient into a large bowl. Mix well. Film the alleged abortions, splatter the results on some sheets, and call that mess “art”. Garnish with a dose of “this is supposed to evoke a dialog on a woman’s body and its roll” for added zest.
I answer this with a “um…do what now?” This doesn’t anger me or make me scream about the morality of the project. I am just wondering why is it when someone in an art program or with a school backing them or the right sponsors gets her period all over a bed sheet and hangs it up, it is considered “art” but if a regular ol’ person such as myself did that, no one would be pondering on the function of my uterus or engaging in a dialog about women’s roles in life? Instead, people would think I was completely out of my mind. If a regular ol’ person tied a up a dog and let it starve to death slowly, no one would be examining it for a statement against animal cruelty; instead, the person would be hauled off and charged.
It baffles me. It really baffles me. I’m not sure why there is a degree of allowance with these things when done under the pretense of art, or even if there should be. Like I said, maybe I’m not designed to understand such things. Perhaps I’m not hip enough to believe that every bodily function could pass as an artistic expression. I suppose on one hand, these artists were successful. They’ve disgusted people into speaking about their actions and managed to gain their 15 mins of fame, whether positive or negative. Let’s have a dialog on that.
And then after that, let’s discuss how unbelievably nasty it is to put your bodily fluids on display for the world to see. I mean, come on now.
(And is it me, or does ‘let me bleed all over the place and film it” chick look an awful lot like Elizabeth Peña? It’s eerie.)