An Artistic Interlude
Thanks to the towering talents of Mr Claude Boudeau, whose performance piece Cascade is featured below.
As you’ve doubtless already discerned, Mr Boudeau’s “main questioning is about the states of insurrection that exist in people and can be revealed through performance art.”
Michael Winslow does it better.
After clicking on the first link – wtf was on his face?? – there is no way I am clicking on that video. I’m going to guess he guzzles that cup of whatever and regurgitates it onto the audience to determine who is or is not worthy of appreciating his “art”?
I need that pretentious art explanation generator thing.
On the bright side, when civilization collapses, these nitwits will provide hours of amusement as court buffoons for their new feudal overlords.
Heathens, the lot of you. Here I am, heroically excavating wonders from deep in the artistic underbrush…
There’s more than one mug in that video.
@ComputerLabRat:
Are you referring to the pig or the fish?
Supper will be accompanied by wine, served in mugs as demonstrated in the video.
Bring your own napkins.
Fans of Cooper’s Hill Cheese Chase may be intrigued to view M. Boudeau’s take on it.
Trigger warning: Contains nudity.
And no cheese. Well not the sort you’d find in your local Fortnum & Mason’s, anyway.
http://www.claudeboudeau.com/index.php/performances/sisyphe-2018/
https://youtu.be/Ycniy4RasMI?t=280
Ladies, avert your eyes.
Contains nudity.
I can see his artistic underbrush.
I can see his artistic underbrush.
I’ll fetch your coat.
It’s all so derivative. If you really want to impress people with your performance art then swallow a bunch of lego blocks and sh!t out the Millenium Falcon.
Ah! ‘Twas the fish to which I was referring – the angle in the pics you posted are more clear. The thing in question was vaguely familiar, but my brain refused to process it. Thanks, Xas!
I can see his artistic underbrush.
Bartender! A drink for the lady.
Ladies, avert your eyes.
Well, he is a bit on the scrawny side. Still, I do appreciate the odd bit of male nudity on occasion, but alas, will have to wait until I get home to click that particular link.
It’s all so derivative.
It’s the wearying predictability of it all. You know it’s going to be banal and utterly devoid of any aesthetic content. You also know what the tiny audience will look like. Just as you know that the clothes will come off. Because they always do.
It’s the wearying predictability of it all.
It’s all a big lie. Write a ridiculous existential description of what your performance art shows and then don’t show it. They’re not even clever enough to tie the descriptions to elements that actually occur in the piece. Cleverness can overcome the crappy and banal but they play everything straight and earnest, playing farce as if it were tragedy. Every Shakespeare tragedy has its moments of comic relief. But these punters are without humour.
There’s more performance and wit in a 30 second commercial than the entire performance art oeuvre. One itches for the heartbreak of psoriasis.
Yes, I have to say that always intrigued me as a question. Why are modern performance clowns so obsessed with getting their kit off? I mean, the only thing I can think of is that they genuinely think it bold and transgressive and that it shocks the bourgeoisie. The same bourgeoisie who watch wall-to-wall tits on half the streaming series.
It’s all a big lie.
It’s so tediously small.
The art, I mean.
[His]…main questioning is about the states of insurrection that exist in people and can be revealed through performance art.
He’s going to regurgitate Alabama, Tennessee and North Carolina?
I went to a modern classical recital to support a friend recently. It was as you’d expect modern classical to be, i.e. earnest nothing, but what interested me was the fact that it was held in small art gallery, so before the recital I had a quick peruse. Again, it was what you’d expect, earnest drivel accompanied by long explanations of what the piece of ‘art’ was ‘about’ which bore no relation to the ‘art’.
What genuinely astonished me, and provoked much mirth on my part, was that one of the pieces of ‘art’ consisted of the sign ‘to let’ in front of two blue folders/bins – within each of which was… a urinal.
One hundred years on and there has been no advance on Duchamp. There’s a reason for that.
Why are modern performance clowns so obsessed with getting their kit off?
It’s a means of distraction and patriarchal control. Most attendees for such events are purple haired lesbians who have very little interaction with the Patriarchal Appendage of Power™. They are too mesmerized to notice the shite that is the performance and can only despair of the PAP’s tumescence. It’s all about the states of insurrection that exist in all of us.
You’re welcome.
I’m pretty sure that guy used to sit in the cubicle next to mine, back in the bad old days. Gods, am I happy to have graduated to an office with a door…
He’s not a bad looking chap/bloke/dude, why hasn’t he found a better way to snag art school birds/sheilas/chicks (or other dudes as the case may be)?
Also, Michael Winslow does it better.
That. Though it’s kind of cruelly obvious when you compare paying audience size.
“Patriarchal Appendage of Power”
Band name.
“Patriarchal Appendage of Power”
Band name.
Ah yes, we can rely on P.A.P. to crank out some good old fashioned Man Metal.
Poster: THE TIME IS NEAR FOR [ INSERT CITY ]’S P.A.P. SMEAR!
/I’ll show myself out. No really, the hamster urine isn’t necessary, thanks.
No really, the hamster urine isn’t necessary, thanks.
[ Reaches under bar for spray bottle. ]
Fetch the weasels.
Audition for SeaWorld. Or lunch for the regulars.
Lots of OCD in performance art, it would seem. Is that what he means by “states of insurrection?”
I think he has revealed more than enough, thank you.
“Patriarchal Appendage of Power”
Not to be confused with the PPAP (Prosthetic Partriachal Appendage of Power) the purple-haired lesbians are most familiar with.
Why are the Henchlesbians snarling and gnashing their teeth?
[ Backs quietly away from the bar. ]
Fetch the weasels.
Band name.
Thanks to the towering talents of Mr Claude Boudeau, whose performance piece Cascade is featured below.
I thought switching to unleaded gas was supposed to eliminate this sort of thing?
Jack the Ripper (probably) identified at last!
https://nypost.com/2019/03/18/dna-research-may-finally-unravel-jack-the-ripper-mystery/
I can remember reading a few books that fingered Aaron Kosminski as the most likely (known) candidate. Although a big surprise on Judgement Day is still not out of the question, since some of the murders could have been copycat crimes. It could be Jack the RipperS.
A mystery solved: I now understand that the off-duty tram conductor who vomited all over me when I was 13 years old as I stepped to the door to alight from a No. 8 tram in Melbourne was really a performance artist displaying his clever skills to the public. I had assumed he was a dissolute drunk and couldn’t hold his grog. I do owe him a debt of gratitude: I was so disgusted I never ever considered trying alcoholic beverages after that thus saving both my health and my funds.
Jim
Jack the Ripper (probably) identified at last!
Bruce “Withnail” Robinson’s book is well worth a read- They All Love Jack. It’s utterly mad, but the hypothesis is intriguing, and the evidence persuasive.
FWIW, Robinson rules out Kosminiski as he was mad and a simpleton, and posits he was framed up by antisemites. IIRC, timing also rules him out as a candidate (should the canonical five be but the tip of the iceberg). Robinson believes that Jack was a ‘sane’ psychopath with a massive ego and a grudge against the establishment. Robinson reckons all of the letters to the cops were genuine, and Jack gave clue after clue to his identity in them. Robinson also rckons that there was no Ripper mystery, but that the coppers knew they were dealing with an establishment figure and were desperately trying not to catch him, lest questions were asked about certain fraternal societoes that (at that point) controlled much of the establishment.
As I say, bonkers, but persuasive.
I went to a modern classical recital to support a friend recently. It was as you’d expect modern classical to be, i.e. earnest nothing
That describes my last such experience, where virtually all the attendees were friends or coworkers of the modern dancers. I’m glad that nobody asked me directly what I thought because it was appallingly bad. In this case the dancer had followed the classic advice and had not quit her day job.
I’m almost convinced these people are massive trolls who sit down the pub all day and dream up this wankery to con the Arts Council of the odd £10k every now and then.
Almost…
Fetch the weasels.
Band name.
I’ve been rather intrigued watching the last couple of weeks worth of Brexit convulsions, particularly with the recent Bercow ruling.
Thus, Erskine May, possibly even Erskine May and The Wigs
Isn’t modern dance ghastly?
My fellow Americans who do not care for Elizabeth Warren will be happy to hear I would no longer be not too disgruntled if she were appointed President, as she has announced her hostility towards my son, which is the unpardonable sin.
You have probably heard of tiger mothers. Mothers of handicapped children are velociraptor mothers.
Hi John Square,
A pity the DNA results weren’t announced before that woman got paid for the Worst Ever Jack The Ripper Article.
“I’m not a butcher
Not a yid
Nor yet a foreign skipper
But I’m your own light-hearted friend
Yours truly, Jack the Ripper.”
Now if somebody can figure out the intriguing mystery of Dyatlov Pass…
Sorry, Captain Beefheart has already covered the Tgrout Mask Replica thing. I suggest Beefheart sue.
Here I am, heroically excavating wonders from deep in the artistic underbrush…
I’m sure you’ll find that pony if you keep digging.
Fetch the weasels.
Band name.
Opening for Unleash the Archers.
Fetch the weasels.
S. Weasel?
“I’m almost convinced these people are massive trolls…”
“It’s like this is a baiting performance-act joke.”
– Ace
Now if somebody can figure out the intriguing mystery of Dyatlov Pass…
Yeti attack.
No big footprints in the snow.
About two minutes in, I was expecting a text crawl on screen that read “If only he had switched to decaf….”
Come to think of it, that video could be repurposed as an ad for decaffinated coffee.
Sshh. Art is happening.
I saw one of those climate-alarm stories saying GB would run out of water in 20 years. How can this be when you’re surrounded by ocean? It may be that you might not be able to desalinate the sea water, but that’s not what it said. It said no water in 20 years, period. What’s up with this?
We can always ship you some from Upper Pogonippia, we got a lot more water last year than we needed. It was so wet last summer our storage-shed door mildewed, that had NEVER happened before. I thought the mildew would die in winter, but it didn’t, so in May Son of Pogonip will have to re-paint the shed with mildew-resistant paint.
Yeti attack.
Ah, now that also is a band name.
Sshh. Art is happening.
He identifies as a Brita water filter.
Sshh. Art is happening.
He identifies as a Brita water filter.
Does that mean we can throw him away in 60 days?