Sup Ye At The Teats Of Art
Attention, lowly workers. I bring you cultural sustenance, courtesy of Finland’s creative powerhouse Iiu Susiraja.
Also, some chafing may have occurred. Previously, another double helping.
I’ve locked the doors, so don’t even try. And yes, open thread.
I do hope you’re savouring the aesthetic and pondering its profundity, just like David Pagel in the Los Angeles Times:
Ah, the art world. Always showing us the way.
If I can make an artistic criticism, without watching the video since I can see the still image: Recently someone posted a link to a photo of tinned bread in which were also featured Red Hot Dogs. Might I suggest to the gross slovenly mentalist that these would have been a much more appropriate choice? Perhaps they don’t have Red Hot Dogs in [checks notes] Finland?
I don’t know, I just don’t feel they were really putting in the effort here. I give the still shot a C-.
That screenshot is more than enough.
And why does this credit note look like it’s been sitting in the jar of pickled eggs?
I’ve locked the doors, so don’t even try.
*screams and banging*
She doesn’t blink often enough, creepy as hell.
How on earth did Finland go from being a country known for exquisite artwork in glass, porcelain, and textiles to this…this…whatever it is?
*screams and banging*
Are you not engorged? Artistically, I mean.
Don’t worry. I have more.
How on earth did Finland go from being a country known for exquisite artwork in glass, porcelain, and textiles to this…this…whatever it is?
What chafes, I think, is the conceit that the banality of it all – the tiresomeness, the fact that it’s as flat and uninteresting, as artless, as every other thing of its type – is some kind of achievement. As if this, and all of the other interchangeable toss, should be good enough for the likes of us. You can’t help but feel a little insulted.
Here is my question when I see “art” like that: why do I bother working?
I mean, unless there is something I don’t know, Iiu certainly is a well-fed woman and that kitchen in which she butters her baguette seems nice enough so how do these people manage to pay rent and buy food while engaging in this luxury of self-indulgent shitty art? And how can I get in on the scam?
My local university has a non-credit extension course in grant writing. Maybe I need to take that and see how much lucre can be made from dumb people.
Thank the gods it’s nearly Friday* and we can move on to less weighty matters. Assuming, of course, that our revered host has ephemerated today.
*I think. This week, except for Monday has been a succession of Sundays, it being the Lunar New Year shut down.
[ Writes down ephemerated. ]
She looks a little disappointed. Was the hot dog halal?
If I can make an artistic criticism…Recently someone posted a link to a photo of tinned bread in which were also featured Red Hot Dogs…
Saveloys. Traditionally made with dubious semi-Dibbler-level ingredients.
…Might I suggest to the gross slovenly mentalist that these would have been a much more appropriate choice? Perhaps they don’t have Red Hot Dogs in [checks notes] Finland?
Even better: Finland can provide true Dibbler quality sausages, described by Terry pratchett as “the midnight dogs they sell to drunks in Helsinki”.
Attention, lowly workers. I bring you cultural sustenance…
The more of this government-subsidized sewage I see, the more I appreciate the attitude displayed by Cyrano de Bergerac in Edmond Rostand’s play:
“Is he not gone yet?
(He makes the gesture of turning up his cuffs):
Good! I shall mount the stage now, buffet-wise,
To carve this fine Italian sausage–thus!”
(In the original French, “sausage” is “mortadella”, a very large, very high-fat sausage similar to bologna.)
Bah, nothing new. There are plenty of videos of women having something smeared on their face courtesy of a ‘sausage’ on the internet already. Not sure any of them count as art.
I’ll see myself out.
On a more serious note – just like David Pagel in the Los Angeles Times:
It’s like the Emperors New Clothes, except we haven’t reached the stage in the media, and society in general, where the child points out the obvious.
Critics don’t want to be seen to be out of step with their peers while showing how culturally superior they are to the unwashed masses, and other artists don’t want to criticise – people who live in glass houses etc.
I imagine the government grant departments don’t want to lose their budget either, so they throw money at anyone proclaiming to be an artist.
If those heavyweights of existentialism had access to Instagram, they might have made works with the same emotional timbre as Susiraja’s.
True, true, however, regarding the video, if only she had belched or farted at the end it truly would have captured the fin du siècle début du siècle that informs the existential ennui of the pancovid-era.
What truly makes one know that Pagel’s critique is not a piss take is that it is noticed that the prints are Chromogenic, which means they were made with a film camera and darkroom, and not some digital nonsense. Only a true connoisseur of fine art would have the knowledge to recognize that the same type of print that Fotomat used to make is actually a “Chromogenic” print.
Meanwhile, a gentleman struggles with concepts.
“Kierkegaard comes to mind, as do Sartre and Dostoevsky” hahaha first of all, showing off by naming white male authors is no longer cool, and second this “artist” has never heard of these guys. I would also note that the art world already descended so low and anti-art that going lower is difficult–though she is trying.
This is a very realistic moving portrait of a 3:00 AM Walmart shopper, yes?
Truly it brings attention to Western civilization’s mental health crisis in both the shopping aisles and in the loftiest circles of own-fart sniffers.
and second this “artist” has never heard of these guys
I’m sure you’re right. But on the other hand, very few “woke” fools have read Karl Marx.
“Kierkegaard Comes to Mind”
Band name, etc..
*Looks at locked door, weeps*
Okay, I deserve this punishment. But please let the others go…
can’t imagine why she isn’t bigger than Tuomas Holopainen
One cannot help but notice that these “art lessons” are always shared just after the monthly subscription fee goes out on the first of the month, and never in the days just before.
Never let it be said that our gracious host lacks an understanding of timing…
can’t imagine why she isn’t bigger than Tuomas Holopainen
Well, she kinda is.
What? Too easy?
My local university has a non-credit extension course in grant writing. Maybe I need to take that and see how much lucre can be made from dumb people.
While Canada isn’t quite so far down the useless eaters rabbit hole as the various Scandinavias, we have rather a lot of this here. In nearby Hamilton there’s an artist’s collective based out of a refurbished factory that does quite well for itself thanks to a dizzying array of municipal, provincial and federal art grants. This in a city which due to the steel industry collapsing decades ago is basically Canada’s Detroit.
Most of the artists appear to be comfortably middle class with another primary source of income, either a rich husband or a retirement portfolio. The kind of people that could probably afford their own studio space if the subsidized one were unavailable.
In nearby Hamilton there’s an artist’s collective based out of a refurbished factory that does quite well for itself
That’s all very well, but we have Laurie Penny and her publicly funded £500,000 international barge of dirt.
Incidentally, I just discovered that she was a writer on The Haunting of Bly Manor. I’m proud to say I already didn’t enjoy the “Gothic lesbian romance with occasional ghosts” even before learning who to blame.
…can’t imagine why she isn’t bigger than Tuomas Holopainen…
Meanwhile, Simo Hayha is whirling in his grave wondering if maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t shot all those Russians.
This, I believe, is what is meant by ‘equity’ in modern parlance. The untalented are treated the same as the talented, if not better.
I’m proud to say I already didn’t enjoy the “Gothic lesbian romance […]”
The Haunting of Hill House‘s rather odd whiplash ending aside, I know a number of people who were great fans and punched out halfway through the first episode of Bly Manor.
As much as I lament the lack of originality in popular media, surely “they seemed to like that a lot; let’s give them more of it” isn’t too hard for producers to grasp?
an artist’s collective… that does quite well for itself thanks to a dizzying array of municipal, provincial and federal art grants.
I’ve mentioned before a group of performance artists I knew some time ago and whose chosen lifestyle has been subsidised by the Arts Council and local government – i.e., by the taxpayer – for close to three decades. We’re talking figures north of £250,000 a year, every year. This confiscated income dwarfs any earned income from ticket sales, etc. The group has insisted that any objections to this arrangement could only be due to “hostility… towards challenging and innovative work.” No other explanations being conceivable, you see.
A few years ago, when their own rather generous bankrolling was briefly in some doubt, they issued a press release claiming that their chronic dependency is “a good argument for the importance of arts funding in England.” Because confiscating millions of pounds of taxpayers’ earnings and throwing it at commercially unviable performance art, with its niche micro-audience of middle-class lefties, somehow benefits the British economy. It turns out that a failure to be self-supporting, year after year, decade after decade, is a measure of “success” in the “creative industries.” (A term that slyly conflates profitable businesses with chronic moochers.)
Apparently, we should be thanking them.
This, I believe, is what is meant by ‘equity’ in modern parlance. The untalented are treated the same as the talented, if not better.
Also the immoral and the moral.
I’ve locked the doors, so don’t even try.
There is something far worse than watching her, and that is being her.
“they seemed to like that a lot; let’s give them more of it”
Indeed.
Of course The Haunting of Hill House also had a lesbian romance. Even if it was a bit on the sado-masochistic side. So perhaps the producers simply decided that people really liked the show for its gothic overtones and ominous lesbian interplay and completely dismissed any possible interest in, you know, actual ghosts. Or well-written screenplay.
Hence Laurie Penny.
Antenatal author Milly Hill has been cancelled by childbirth grifting charity “Birthrights” because Milly refuses to refer to women as front-hole bleeders or whatever politically correct term-of-the-week the charity is demanding.
The CEO explained by email that “Birthrights isn’t able to work with people who don’t share our inclusive values.”
They keep using that word inclusive. I don’t think it means what they think it means.
The Haunting of Hill House’s rather odd whiplash ending aside, I know a number of people who were great fans
[Raises hand] I enjoyed it enough that I would love to pass some sort of law to NEVER make a sequel to it. I slogged through some episodes of Bly Manor and, for the life of me, I can’t remember a thing about it now (even now, I can easily run through the story line arcs in HHH).
Of course The Haunting of Hill House also had a lesbian romance.
Theodora was 1 of 5 kids and the writers, IMHO, did a good job in not making her sexual orientation contrived. Had it’s humorous moments, too (the bridesmaids scene).
Theodora was 1 of 5 kids
What an odd comment. In your experience are 1 in 5 people lesbians? Or is your point that I should admire the restraint of Hollywood scribblers in restraining their natural impulse for moral preaching to merely 1 in 5 characters?
I don’t generally watch telly, and haven’t owned one now for 50 years, but still failed to avoid it entirely over Christmas. Any alien unlucky enough to have to watch the adverts would conclude that Britain was a nation consisting entirely of black, asian or mixed race families. In approximately equal numbers.
Rather like the Hill House lesbian romance, which I agree did not strike me as contrived, it isn’t any objection to the existence of trans-gay-black-disabled-autistic-dwarf characters. It’s when they all are.
Except for the baddies.
I know nothing about The Haunting of Hill House but I do remember that back in the sixties my sister and some of her friends were avid fans of Dark Shadows. I believe the kinky sexual undercurrent of vampires and werewolves had a lot to do with it.
did a good job in not making her sexual orientation contrived
Given that the recurring theme across all the children is how living in the house permanently warped them as adults, there’s a bit of a subtext there that doesn’t exactly follow the approved narrative.
I flip-flop between thinking that Netflix show writers are so messed up themselves that they can’t see how normal people perceive their author-insert characters, and thinking that there’s a subtle revolt in the writers’ rooms among scribblers who resent having to shoehorn everything into the woke politics of the day and so present the mandated diversity in an…unflattering light.
The last two season of Below Deck have each featured two black crewmembers: an angry black woman with delusions of adequacy who accuses everyone of racism and refuses to be mollified by good-faith socialization, and a much more laid-back black man who tends to respond with “yeah, things aren’t actually that bad, you need to lighten up”. I don’t think this is coincidental.
delusions of adequacy
Snort!
What an odd comment. In your experience are 1 in 5 people lesbians?
What an odd response. What I was attempting to point out is that it was an ENSEMBLE series and her lesbian relationships didn’t feel to me (note the IMHO in my comment) on the order of some tacked on or obsessively lingered on part of Wokeistan entertainment. Another 1 of those 5 kids was a long, unrecovered drug addict – his addiction not at all romanticized – and that does NOT mean I think 1 in 5 people are heroin users.
And, yes, the kids were all a bit screwed up as adults because of what happened to them as kids which is part of the theme of the series
Sheesh.
Sheesh
Ah, I think I understand why you were so oddly defensive of the lesbianism.
Of course The Haunting of Hill House also had a lesbian romance.
That’s as in “It is also the case that…” as opposed to “As usual they had to crowbar in…”. Which I assume is how you read it?
Sheesh.
I get the feeling that someone has pissed in Karl’s Corn Flakes recently.
He’s been a tad tetchy lately. Back away from those knives hanging in your on-board galley Karl.
He’s been a tad tetchy lately.
Aw shucks. You may be right, apologies everyone. I’ve been thinking I should cut down on my media consumption (present company excepted), it seems to be winding me up. There was a time when I used to only get the news on Sundays via a massive colour supplemented newspaper, and spend the rest of the week in blissful ignorance.
Happy days!
which is part of the theme of the series
One of the things that sticks with me about that show is the SPOILERS AHEAD final episode where Mom and Dad’s spirits are supposedly happy and content together trapped in the house and Nell’s face is a rictus of stark horror.
Messaging’s bit mixed, is all I’m saying.
I believe the kinky sexual undercurrent of vampires and werewolves had a lot to do with it.
I was bedridden with the flu for a couple of weeks a few years back and watched the early seasons available on Amazon Prime, when it was only gothic and the supernatural elements hadn’t been introduced yet. Seemed pretty good, if slow-moving. I remember being surprised at the pretty obvious subtext that two of the characters who had been drummed out of town in disgrace as young men were gay lovers.
I always come prepared. Stand back, ladies and gents, I will place the C-4 on the door. Hopefully we will survive the explosion.
Also, I’m seeking funding for my first performance piece. It will be titled Yellow Cheeks and feature a bratwurst.
“We’re talking figures north of £250,000 a year,”
Well, that’ll do, I guess.
*looks at bank accounts…*
Say, who’s up for some Art?
Say, there’s suddenly more reasons to stick around…
Happy days!
It happens to the best of us. Cheers!
How’s the boat by-the-way? I was envious of your knife collection–on a boat nonetheless. It puts my home knife collection to shame.
The sausage being consumed is called Makkara in Finnish and it is pretty much the definition of mystery meat, as immortalized in the lines
Oh makkara, oh makkara
so white, so pure
what you are made of
we’re not really sure
A composition made some 30+ years ago by “Pekka Perselainen” at the Tapiola Poetry Symposium and sauna party
Do the exploits of the cheerful young Japanese ladies who have graced these pages in recent times also qualify as “art”?
How’s the boat by-the-way?
Thank you for asking, but I sold her, after the first round of COVID, and haven’t managed any sailing since. Perhaps that is also a contributor to my mood?
I kept the knives though 😉
Hmm. Turns out I’m actually an uncultured philistine. And I can live with that.
Do the exploits of the cheerful young Japanese ladies who have graced these pages in recent times also qualify as “art”?
Yes. But only if, instead of bikinis, they start wearing carelessly draped Classical Greek tunics.
Pst314: And urns. There must be urns. Terry Pratchett taught me that (re: Thud!)
Pst314: And urns. There must be urns.
I was wondering if someone would mention that. 😀
Note the urn.
If anyone’s getting aroused by this thread, there will be no surcharge.
Farnsworth M Muldoon | February 03, 2022 at 14:01 wrote:
…”regarding the video, if only she had belched or farted at the end it truly would have captured the fin du siècle début du siècle that informs the existential ennui of the pancovid-era.”
The fact that she didn’t belch or fart at the end makes this a truly brave and transgressive work by today’s standards in the genre!
That is a damn fine urn.
What is the winged chap and his bint doing in there? They’re spoiling my view of the urn.
What is the winged chap and his bint doing in there? They’re spoiling my view of the urn.
You mean the divine goddess and her pinioned plaything.
“Sup Ye At The Teats Of Art”…
Art who?
(Sorry, it had to be said, and it had to be me who said it…)