‘KABOOM!’ – why Basquiat’s explosive art should be listened to, not just looked at.
While Out Walking – I love this.
London design studio VATRAA stacked thousands of water bottles to create its Plastic Monument installation, which is designed to highlight the world’s pollution problem.
The artwork echoes the trilithons of England’s 5,000-year-old Stonehenge, which are made from pairs of upright stones supporting a lintel. It’s designed as a reinterpretation of the prehistoric stone circle, albeit made from a far more problematic material.
Photo by Frances Seward (more about her on her website). Saw a photo by the artist on Twitter. Ah, the obsession of the desert dweller with water. It’s universal. Click on the image to go to Seward’s gallery page. And the last name is only one letter away from Seaward…
Appearing to break through the steel bars that surround them, these characters represent the “free passage of all populations, and appealing for a world without borders,” said creative foundation Brilliant Minds, which organized the installation.
This is a beautiful sculpture by Ai Weiwei. The foundation Brilliant Minds was created by the man who became unfathomably rich by founding first Pirate Bay and later Spotify. Someone should put a sticker on the Arch that says paid for by musicians everywhere.
I am reading Ai’s book “1000 Years of Joys and Sorrows”. For me the book became really interesting after he arrived in New York, in February of 1981.
There were tens of thousands of artists in New York, but only a few dozen who were making money. For a certain subset, art had become a
target of speculation and just part of the race to find the next new thing.
Art had long been a consumption commodity, a decoration catering to the
tastes of the rich, and under commercial pressures it was bound
degenerate. As artworks rise in monetary value, their spiritual dimension
declines, and art is reduced to little more than an investment asset, a
Around this same time, a couple of pictures of mine were part of a group exhibition in the East Village. When the show closed, rather than take the pictures home with me, I just chucked them into a dumpster. Dumpsters are everywhere in the streets of New York City, and you could probably find a number of masterpieces in them. I must have moved about ten times during my years in New York, and artworks were the first things I threw away. I had pride in these works, of course, but once I’d finished them, my friendship with them had ended. I didn’t owe them and they didn’t owe me, and I would have been more embarrassed to see them again than I would have been to run into an old lover. If they were not going to behanging on someone else’s wall, they didn’t count as anything at all.
I highly recommend the book.
Good art — be it a painting or a poem, a novel or a song — makes our ordinary lives more livable. Great art makes them transcendent — it casts a spell of enchantment on the moment and on the epochs, transporting us both away from and deeper into the common plane of living, unlatching some new dimension of consciousness.