Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Art, I suppose

One must remember that to be in the art world is to be pretty (gorgeous is even better- but not too gorgeous, otherwise you are regulated to the zoo of models). I made this observation when I was looking at photos my agents in Venice dredged up, from this Venice art fair that goes on there. Everybody looked exactly the same- as if they were transplants from the hair of the fashion world, and everybody knows that fashion has no heir, so everything is particularly stark and boring. There is a reason Anna only attends fashion world parties for 15 minutes- they are simply insufferably boring events filled with so many patting each other on the back that one begins to suspect one is in some sort of modern dance instillation (the most terrifying aspect of this being that you're surrounded by all these modern dancers, slapping each other on the back- not too hard as to damage their finely-sculpted skin, and that getting out means moving around them and through them).

I said to my assistant, "you know, the problem with art today is that there's too many pretty people, and they all look so similar, so the art they produce is so similar and everything's boring. Andy Warhol was never pretty. It's his mistake, though, probably- the Edie mistake. Now everyone wants to be an Edie and nobody wants to be an Andy".
"And that's the problem- nobody wants to be ugly anymore. Too many good looking people. Make a note of that. I only want to hire conjoined twins and circus freaks from now on- hire the entire Diane Arbus range of people. Is there a place that sells them? Buy them in bulk. Staff them in the stores. Give a few stickers that they can stick on themselves and say "artist".
"Is that what makes an artist?"
"Of course. I have a label sewn into this suit that says "dressmaker".

A bit later, when the assistant was gone, I started talking to myself.
"The collectors used to be odd looking too, you know- bulbous New York men in Italian suits and women wearing colours that'd make Matisse blush. The collectors are boring looking as well, now. Is it because of boring looking art? Does boring looking art breed boring looking people?" I started throwing some Picassos out the window, in the hope that some women would look at the painting and give birth to an interesting-looking, interesting-thinking child. I put the Jeff Koons I was sent as a gift into the deepest darkest depths of my closest, hoping nobody would be able to see it ever- dull art is a dangerous thing, you know. I threw several Cartier-Bressons out the window beside the first window, and out the third window I threw several volumes of a Lee Friedlander book, in the hope that somebody would give birth to a child who doesn't follow the terrors of the Düsseldorf school of photography, and those hideous Becher people- I met them once and they made their cups of tea exactly the same way, every time. I asked them if they ever got bored and they smiled tightly.


The Merchant Maven said...

very cool blog. Good design.

Have you actually ever met Karl in person? that would be a dream. He's so funny, charming and witty.

I created a spoof on him. tell me what you think. It's not meant to be mean or anything. I just wish I was more like him. Sorry for the poor video quality. but u get the idea.

The man. The myth. A brand is born.

Karl Westfeld does not exist. He is simply
waiting to be discovered. He is a modern
Renaissance Man with the noblest intentions.
He lives and breathes design, culture, cuisine, fashion, beauty and life.

He is on Facebook 4.58 hours per day. His twitter followers follow him
everywhere. His watchband matches his socks. His Android phone manages
his non-stop social life. He does not work in a cubicle. He says what
he means and he means what he says...........always with an accent.
His shopping adventures are planned 6 months ahead of time.
He refuses to shop on Sundays.
He has 4 German boxer dogs, 7 Siamese cats and 8 pairs of black
Ferragamo golf shoes. He only sips Coca Cola out of a
slightly chilled Orefors crystal glass - no ice. He is the
master of his own brand. He is Karl Westfeld.

There is only one place he can have it all. In a borough
named Paramus. In a shopping destination close to
your heart. In a world where more than 300 + stores
and restaurants will overwhelm you with pleasure......
And make life a little easier .




aammiiH said...

Stark observation, indeed! Chill, though! All is well!

michael said...

I wonder did Karl attend Art Basel in Miami? It was a collection of the rich and overly Botoxed. Poor artists couldn't even tell if anyone one enjoyed their art, due to the widely facially disabled crowd.

Anonymous said...

Karl, I can't help it.

Artemis said...

Do you know, my dear Karl, what art truly needs? It needs patrons who are willing to support and guide artists to create these wonderfully exciting paintings that you so long for. Ciao ;)




your writing is addictive. i agree, too many pretty people jaja

stay cinched,

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