I got coerced into attending an acquaintance’s friend’s dinner party last night. Normally I would decline such an invitation because – well because I’m a hapless loner who loves to grovel in self-pity eating ice cream in my bathtub and wondering why I have no real friends and then turn down any invitations to go out. No not really, getting hammered with near-strangers is one thing…trying to have a meaningful conversation at a dinner table amongst a group of friends who all know each other and have an assortment of insider jokes is a ridicule I refuse to endure. Again. But I suppose the lack of social contact outside the hair pulling from my “charming” cousins and the fact that I haven’t strayed from the work-home routine for 2 weeks now was enough to let me tempt fate.
To my relief this time it was different. Even though I barely know the person who invited me to the party not to mention the host, after a couple glasses of wine that was all academic because the host proclaimed mi casa su casa and everyone was hugging and kissing and the world was a jolly good place.
Somewhere along this orgy of love I discovered the host, Idan, is an artist. As in singer. And dancer, and songwriter/composer, and novelist, and painter. No wonder I have no talent - someone has them all. Or so thought. At one point he started singing and playing the piano about a painting of his. Singing about a painting? Who are these people??? Anyway, I didn’t say so at the time but his work, I mean ALL his work sucked. The songs, the paintings, the chapter of his novel I read, I didn’t get an opportunity to sample his dancing but maybe that is for the best because it probably sucked worse than his other ”talents”.
He described his paintings as “abstract expressionism”. A kind of abstract art form which from all indications is synonymous with “I don’t have the slightest vestige of talent but kindly sponsor my doodles”. Abstract art is something that has always intrigued me. Sometimes you can really appreciate the textures, the palette, the intersecting patterns and you can even sense the emotion the artist is trying to evoke in you as you clear you mind and let the painting envelope your consciousness…but a lot of the time however it just looks like a kindergarden kid was left alone with paint in the dark. If that kid scratch was placed in a gallery under some famous name, suddenly all kinds of meaning and symbolisms would be extracted from the squiggles. Idan’s art was even worse because it looked like he’d sucked some paint into a straw then projected it onto a canvas using air blow out from his nostril. Absolutely no discernable method in his madness. Or perhaps he's actually a paying member of the art movement characterised by spewing paint from a tube coming out of your butt. I think it is called fart. F-Art. Or at least, it should be.
Anyway, the point of all this is I think I may have found my calling. My one elusive talent. I’m harbouring a lingering suspicion that I'm a really good abstract artist yet to be discovered. How hard could it be? If you watched the movie Mona Lisa smile, it featured a huge canvas of seemingly randomly splashed paint (called “Lavender Mist”?) which Julia Roberts made the students “consider”. I reckon if I apply myself (something my grade school teachers used to say: “Lyn is a highly intelligent little girl, only if she would apply herself…”) I could come up with something similar and guarantee myself a nice little handprint on the Artists’ version of Hollywood Boulevard’s Starwalk.
Well, I applied myself alright. Picasso has nothing on me. Neither does ...whatyoumacallhim... the other artist dude. Before I showcase my magnum opus, my masterpiece that will wow the crowds and send the world into a mad frenzy just to touch me...No. Just to even live vicariously from a distance in envy of those fortunate enough to touch me, before I expose my greatness in plain sight for all the world to witness, I must warn you, it is not for simple minds. If you find that you don’t like it - You Are An Uncultured Individual With No Taste.
Without further ado. world, I present to you “Blogoshere”:
It is the embodiment of a mindless materialistic and bureaucratic society consisting of way too many bloggers with way too much time on their hands talking way too much crap. Notice how all the colours of the spectrum bounce off the canvas creating White and giving it a semblance of emptiness. This represents the possibility of being surrounded with all these blogging people and yet, being completely alone. Take a moment to contemplate the intricate detail showcased in this particular Work of Art. Allow it to capture your imagination and take you where it may.
For a nominal fee, I will provide autographed copies.
With a little pecuniary compensation, I may even be tempted to pose for a photograph.
To my relief this time it was different. Even though I barely know the person who invited me to the party not to mention the host, after a couple glasses of wine that was all academic because the host proclaimed mi casa su casa and everyone was hugging and kissing and the world was a jolly good place.
Somewhere along this orgy of love I discovered the host, Idan, is an artist. As in singer. And dancer, and songwriter/composer, and novelist, and painter. No wonder I have no talent - someone has them all. Or so thought. At one point he started singing and playing the piano about a painting of his. Singing about a painting? Who are these people??? Anyway, I didn’t say so at the time but his work, I mean ALL his work sucked. The songs, the paintings, the chapter of his novel I read, I didn’t get an opportunity to sample his dancing but maybe that is for the best because it probably sucked worse than his other ”talents”.
He described his paintings as “abstract expressionism”. A kind of abstract art form which from all indications is synonymous with “I don’t have the slightest vestige of talent but kindly sponsor my doodles”. Abstract art is something that has always intrigued me. Sometimes you can really appreciate the textures, the palette, the intersecting patterns and you can even sense the emotion the artist is trying to evoke in you as you clear you mind and let the painting envelope your consciousness…but a lot of the time however it just looks like a kindergarden kid was left alone with paint in the dark. If that kid scratch was placed in a gallery under some famous name, suddenly all kinds of meaning and symbolisms would be extracted from the squiggles. Idan’s art was even worse because it looked like he’d sucked some paint into a straw then projected it onto a canvas using air blow out from his nostril. Absolutely no discernable method in his madness. Or perhaps he's actually a paying member of the art movement characterised by spewing paint from a tube coming out of your butt. I think it is called fart. F-Art. Or at least, it should be.
Anyway, the point of all this is I think I may have found my calling. My one elusive talent. I’m harbouring a lingering suspicion that I'm a really good abstract artist yet to be discovered. How hard could it be? If you watched the movie Mona Lisa smile, it featured a huge canvas of seemingly randomly splashed paint (called “Lavender Mist”?) which Julia Roberts made the students “consider”. I reckon if I apply myself (something my grade school teachers used to say: “Lyn is a highly intelligent little girl, only if she would apply herself…”) I could come up with something similar and guarantee myself a nice little handprint on the Artists’ version of Hollywood Boulevard’s Starwalk.
Well, I applied myself alright. Picasso has nothing on me. Neither does ...whatyoumacallhim... the other artist dude. Before I showcase my magnum opus, my masterpiece that will wow the crowds and send the world into a mad frenzy just to touch me...No. Just to even live vicariously from a distance in envy of those fortunate enough to touch me, before I expose my greatness in plain sight for all the world to witness, I must warn you, it is not for simple minds. If you find that you don’t like it - You Are An Uncultured Individual With No Taste.
Without further ado. world, I present to you “Blogoshere”:
It is the embodiment of a mindless materialistic and bureaucratic society consisting of way too many bloggers with way too much time on their hands talking way too much crap. Notice how all the colours of the spectrum bounce off the canvas creating White and giving it a semblance of emptiness. This represents the possibility of being surrounded with all these blogging people and yet, being completely alone. Take a moment to contemplate the intricate detail showcased in this particular Work of Art. Allow it to capture your imagination and take you where it may.
For a nominal fee, I will provide autographed copies.
With a little pecuniary compensation, I may even be tempted to pose for a photograph.
Comments
:-)
Bent, I have my moments.
Kyk, i'll let this one go. Its understandable that I'm too hot to resist right now. I'll be more discrete next time.