“Clearly you didn’t go to art school, else you’d be aware that in order for your work to be considered art, it has to meet certain criteria of high art.” A bearded guy in an orange plaid is leaning above my bed while I sleep. His voice sounds blasé and he closes his eyes and lifts his nose every time he pronounces the word “art”.
“And no. You clearly don’t know the secret. The secret we all know. All art school graduates.” I’m wrapping my head into a pillow. “Christ, why is this person interrupting my sleep?”
The bearded douche bag leans even closer to my pillow and whispers: “The secret about fine arts you need to know is…. that space for the articulation of intention needs to be created and reality has to be manipulated in a non-manipulative way…..”
The gulps of dry air nearly suffocate me when I quickly sit up in my Bushwick bed. Cold sweat on my forehead, alarm clock buzzing like crazy, my heart pounding in my ears. I look around my room, the bearded guy is gone. Luckily.
Maybe it was all the discussions about art I had with James Marshall lately and maybe it was just an excessive consumption of alcoholic beverages last night.
But how will I know if my work is art again? It has to manipulate intention of reality to articulate space?? I quickly google the key words of the phrase. Nothing relevant comes up. Couple of clicks until I find a web site called Is This Art? Only to find out that there is an iPhone application, which will instantly instruct me whether a particular product of my work is art of not. Now take this, bearded plaid guy!
