Artsy farts. They ruin it for everyone. Especially performance artists. Nothing turns the general public off the arts more than someone gluing their pubic hair to a Volkswagon and calling “Art” (you gotta know it’s been done). We braved the all night artsy douchebaggery that was Nuit Blanch Toronto 2009 and managed to get enough sleep to talk about it.
And there was a lot of artsbaggery to survive. Nuit Blanche reminds me why I quit art school. Actually, when I quit I was as douchie an artist as the douchebag next to me. My views on art school are there’s only about one semester of theory and technique they can teach you (or not bother teaching you as it turned out with my profs) and then the rest is blood, sweat and practicing on your own. You got it, or you ain’t. It took me years to get back into making art.
This is what the Pixmaven instant art critique generator has this to say about this episode: “It should be added that the reductive quality of the figurative-narrative line-space matrix endangers the devious simplicity of the distinctive formal juxtapositions.”
Good performace art: Shara Rosko’s Glomerate.
Bad performance art: