artist tickle: MARTIN PURYEAR

http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/exhibitions/28

RED BERRY PLUM YUM

http://thethousands.com.au/melbourne/out/red-berry-plum-single-launch-with-special-guests-the-harpoons-and-dreaming-and-delicious/

Project 35 @ Gertrude

Where to find dancing penises and "extinct birds rambling about art and transcendence."

http://aestheticamagazine.blogspot.com/2011/07/risk-experimentation-in-video-art.html

SHAUN GLADWELL @ ACMI

There are two ways you can go about writing for a show.

1. Give them what they want. Conform to artworld blabber and blow up the bubble of hype surrounding artists and their work, with the hope that your writing flair is so unique that despite the fact you are not really saying what you think, people will bow at your feet at your intellectual prowess. Besides, everyone knows honesty never gets anyone very far.

2. Honesty. Even if it means that next time you try and go see a show, you know that you will repel the crowd with more efficiency than your average mace spray.  Your opinions, which frankly, don't align with the exhibition catalogue do not want to be heard, even if you didn't feel the 'dialogue between the history of the sculpturally charged space' or engage with the 'fictionalised dialectic of the Lacanian perspective'. All these comments are completely invented, of course, but who can tell. Nothing makes any sense anymore.

Oh, and using bigger words doesn't make you more complex, it just makes you more annoying.

I would be lying if I said I never engaged in a smidgeon of number 1, because human nature compels us to follow. But here, I hope, there will be more scope and time for number 2's.

In the meantime, check my review and show out for yourselves:

Aesthetica Magazine Blog: Performative Landscapes: Shaun Gladwell: Stereo Se...: "Text by Emily Bour Arriving at Shaun Gladwell's Stereo Sequences exhibition, currently showing at the Australian Center for the Moving I..."

LICK MY TART

Tarts. Sweet and sour, big and small, fresh or foul or fat or slim, here they are, all sizes galore. Look, admittedly, it's probably not the best object from which to draw an image for art, and yet here I am, using it. 

"Not another bloody blog", you say?

To which I am obliged to retort:

"Indeed."

 I promise to try and suck out the more-often-than-not, tart reality of art, whose bitter aftertaste can be felt in the mouths of all those who try and 'make it' in the art world and who are, inevitably faced with the administrative duties of other 'artists' whose tepid works could only find voice as a result of favours performed. Some of us know how to leave the moral-high horse at home, you see. So when you find yourself envious of the golden destination we call success, just remember that life isn't about the journey, it's all about money and CAA-ASH, "cuz alota wacks, wanna hear it". (But does thy homie really feel me, I ask? Hmmm, I think not.)

And when you and I both get bored of ruminating the nature of human existence from that sticky pot of culture, I will feel myself validated in bestowing upon you an opinion of both the aesthetically enlightened and the other, somewhat more challenged categories. I may also chose to add some food reviews, just because I can. 

No one said you had to like it, no one even said you had to read it. But if I got you this far. 

All of you can lick my tart. 

Love,

Miss Bour

(A hypocritical, steak tartare loving, guiltily indulgent, though not any less responsible from the admission, consumerist agent of this not-so-green planet, who must say these things outright, for fear of mis(s)-categorisation.)