After getting a chance to watch some proper television last night (thank you BBC4 and your constant stream of nerdy documentaries) which was mainly concerned with the bubble within the modern art market (I'm sure there is a Paul Simon pun in there somewhere), I have meandered to being a part-time art critic (I don't get 90% of modern art hence I criticise it, and how can you be an artist and have six offices????) and Malthusian disciple (we are all fucked). One hour of television has caused moral abhorrence within me for people trying to make money out of creating false demand within an art form (should I be angry at EMI for Leona Lewis???), and then people going to a gallery because someone oligarch paid thirty million for some dubious art just because they want a look see out of curiosity. To top it all off Hirst had a GOLDEN CALF within the last proper auction to make money. At least he has a sense of humour I suppose.
Anyways at the end of the documentary the market goes belly up and for some reason you start thinking of tulips in Amsterdam and did anyone ever read a history book. On a less angry note there was a cracking programme on poetry (whoever thought) featuring the work of George Makay Brown who I was ignorant of until last night but after the opening lines of Hamnavoe I was caught. Seemingly its on the national curriculum across the water so maybe its not looked on as kindly over there (something akin to lots of us pretty much hating Yeats).
Moving away from an attempt at a critique of modern society and art ( Poetry good, modern art rubbish, I call it a caveman review) I have started using spotify and it is the business. Go to England buy yourself an office and install a server if needs must to access the site. Never again will an album be bought in the dark although that does take the whole romance out of the ritual of cd shopping.
After plummeting the depths of art and soaring with poetry only one song is appropriate. The Well and The Lighthouse (see what I did there, its almost, almost, a metaphor)
Anyways at the end of the documentary the market goes belly up and for some reason you start thinking of tulips in Amsterdam and did anyone ever read a history book. On a less angry note there was a cracking programme on poetry (whoever thought) featuring the work of George Makay Brown who I was ignorant of until last night but after the opening lines of Hamnavoe I was caught. Seemingly its on the national curriculum across the water so maybe its not looked on as kindly over there (something akin to lots of us pretty much hating Yeats).
Moving away from an attempt at a critique of modern society and art ( Poetry good, modern art rubbish, I call it a caveman review) I have started using spotify and it is the business. Go to England buy yourself an office and install a server if needs must to access the site. Never again will an album be bought in the dark although that does take the whole romance out of the ritual of cd shopping.
After plummeting the depths of art and soaring with poetry only one song is appropriate. The Well and The Lighthouse (see what I did there, its almost, almost, a metaphor)
2 comments:
If you hate Yeats you're nowt but a fool. The Second Coming (his poem, not The Stone Roses album) is a work of genius.
Both are works of genius!!!!
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