True Outsider: “And I’ve yet to find a single artist who even questions this state of affairs, much less bothers to make any objections or to clarify for themselves what it is that makes something art.”
Eric Wayne:” It’s so weird that you keep insisting on this. I am sure there are thousands, if not tens or hundreds of thousands of artists that question this shit all the time. The real question that occurs to me at this particular juncture is how many of those tens or hundreds of thousands of artists think they are the ONLY one, the “true outsider”? Bah! What grandstanding. What self-glorifying pomposity. There’s a whole army of artists on your side..”
Thanks for the comment Eric. I asked you when you made it to name me ten contemporary artists you’re aware of who resemble me in any way, shape, or form. Naturally you haven’t since there aren’t any that I know of. And if I don’t know of them it’s quite certain that you wouldn’t either. However, I’m still awaiting you to name even one. I’ll be happy if instead of producing the hundreds of thousands of artists who are just like me and think themselves the ONE true outsider, you just name me one. Your comment is so absurd I begin to doubt your basic sanity.
This brings me to the issue of why you’ve been badgering me on my blog for the past few months with what can only be described as self-glorifying grandstanding. It’s the same “pompous grandstanding” that I’ve been pointing out in all contemporary art. Go into the Museum of Modern Art or any other Contemporary Art Museum (as they’re all identical now). What else do you see in them but pompous grandstanding?
And as I’ve pointed out tirelessly for years, this all begins with Pollock and company, Greenberg, Duchamp, and succeeding generations of artists all modelling themselves on those artists successful methods of achieving worldwide fame and global domination. Conquering hearts and minds, so to speak, while our troops supply the firepower. The Action Painters and Color Field painters of the 40s, 50s and onwards are the very definition of pompous grandstanding in art. Who else would fill up miles of canvas with little to nothing whatsoever that speaks of anything other than their own individual egos? Look at Titian, Tintoretto, Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Turner if you want to see the kind of artistic vision and talent to pull that off with anything remotely convincing. Those artists are not bombastically proclaiming their own selfish egotism. They aren’t Selfie Artists. (see below)
Jasper Johns and Bruce Nauman? How is that remotely connected to the real artists I just named. All your blog amounts to is Nihilistic verbal masturbation and self-promotion. So kindly lay off charging me with doing exactly what you are so I don’t have to spend time clarifying what should be perfectly obvious to any reader. That what I’m saying is perfectly obvious is why I have few to no readers and that is something that doesn’t concern me in the least. All that concerns me is finding out the truth and reporting here on what I find to be the truth. I’ve done nothing over the years so much as request that if anyone find what I’m writing to be wrong or false or off-base or unfair I am willing to rescind whatever it is they reveal as a false statement. But I’m going to need more evidence than somebody spouting off of me that they LOVE that artists work and how dare a fraud like me say he’s a fraud.
In fact, anyone who is accusing me of being a fraud is an obvious fraud themselves. Just like you the minute I respond they run off to the hills with their tails between their legs because they’re too cowardly to back up their charge that I’m a fraud. This doesn’t make me mad. I just find it annoying. I don’t expect people to be heroes. I’m not asking for some kind of fisticuffs or verbal combat. If anyone wants to have some civil exchange where they want to refute anything I see as true I’d love to hear it. In fact, I’d far rather not think that we’re awash in Greenberg’s and Duchamp’s fraudulent notions but it’s an unavoidable fact as far as I can tell.
The only reason I write the blog is to try to address the moral quandary we are in, where artists with any sense of deep moral purpose are entirely excluded from participation in the art world. Where art has been entirely defined as something pretty or thought provoking. Something that provides a bit of a laugh and finger in the eye or mustache on the face of the Mona Lisa. Something that, as Matisse worked so hard to do, provides a nice comfortable armchair for the tired businessman. Matisse is the worst painter who ever lived. I’d rather look at the work below any day of the week than the phony Matisse and his beautiful lines. The guy never learned to draw from day one. An absolute bungler. Worse than Cezanne. Yet, in the Barnum and Bailey circus of 20th century art he becomes the glory of the age.
Our own Michelangelo. Here. Somebody tell me how great this is while keeping a straight face. Most people would pass on this if they were shopping for a shower curtain. But let’s just pretend it’s a colossal achievement that the Ancient Greeks themselves could never have achieved. And that there isn’t an artist out there who can admit to just what a mentally defective notion of art this dimwitted thing actually amounts to? No. We’re not a collapsing culture. We’re at the apex. It’s all up from here. Frank Stella has shown the way. He said so himself. Try reading Stella’s Working Space if you really want to read the words of a deranged person who is even more out of touch than the senile Matisse :
It’s a direct line from Matisse to the work below. We are descending into cultural oblivion with no artists willing to say a single word that might have us change course. That is why I say there are no more real artists. Anybody who was really an artist would never sit back and allow this to happen without uttering a single word about why it’s happening. Who started the descent. And how the only way for it to stop happening is to entirely reject the work that has been proclaimed the greatest art of all time by the Museum of Modern Art.
Thus spake Zarathustra. Nietzsche predicted this to happen. Just like Duchamp. They also were among many influential “thinkers” who provided the key instruments that insured we went into the abyss.
And I’m not talking about artists posting comments to me. Or raising the battlecry on this blog. I’m talking about them thinking about it to themselves. Talking to others. Spreading the word in places other than the imbecilic inferno of psycho-cyberspace.