The objective of this blog is to "plumb the psychic ruptures in the American imaginary as a speculum for examining the violence, tragedies and trauma of the American self".
One should publicize pseudo-artistic rhetoric and hold it up to ridicule at every opportunity. The above sentence was copied down during a visit to a New York photographic museum and amply illustrates the fact that bullshit, far from baffling brains, has taken the place of artistic talent.
The 15th Century Aztec poet, Ayocuan Cuetzpaltzin suggested that there is a time when humankind can touch the enduring truths that underlie our fleeting lives. That time is the moment of artistic creation. Unfortunately, all too many artists try to pull the wool over the heads of the public, thus ensuring that "enduring truth" is debased and regarded with a heavy dose of scepticism.
The chief disability of modern art is the tendency to take itself too seriously. The “best” art is created by those who produce it naturally, as a typist types a letter. It flows forth and needs no fancy language or explanation. It should speak for itself.
Is the pomposity of the fine art and photographic community a sign of lack of confidence?
Pompous people often mask their intellectual vacuity with indigestible vocabulary, sometimes polysyllabic, sometimes coarse monosyllables. They must bury THIS sad truth: they have nothing worthwhile to say to the rest of humankind.
My reaction to “plumbing ruptures” is a third-grader’s word: GACK! (The exclamation point is required).