How To Argue About Art (Reactionary Style)

I've gotten into several arguments about the recent removal of the following (not safe for work) video from a Smithsonian exhibit:



because some people found it offensive on religious grounds. I can see how a pious person could take offense at the video, but it seems more like an expression of despair at the inefficacy of traditional solaces like faith and money in the face of AIDS (from which the young artist died) than an exercise in cheap offensiveness. As a gesture of goodwill to those on the other side of the issue, here's a field guide to arguing against offensive art and the government funding of same.

1. Tell The Joke. The Joke is essential. You have to tell it. Like a blues song there is no canonical version, but a representative rendition follows:

"Hey, if they wanna be cutting-edge, I got an idea for them. Chortle! How about painting something beautiful? Something that requires skill. Now that would be avant-garde! Guffaw!"

If someone else has already told the joke, the fun isn't over; go ahead and tell it again. If a third person wishes to argue against modern art, that person should also tell the joke. Each time the joke is told, be sure to laugh as if hearing it for the first time.

As an alternative one can ask why these so-called "artists" (remember the sneer quotes!) pick on Christians, but not Muslims. Be sure to assume that every Muslim man woman and child is a murderous lunatic, and that anyone who claims to have a bone to pick with any aspect of Christianity is just petulant.

2. Do not, under any circumstances, engage the art in question. Any real exposure to the art under discussion might complicate the making of glib, snide remarks. Bonus points for asserting that Robert Mapplethorpe did Piss Christ.

3. Remember the instant-win killer app of modern art mockery: Michelangelo. Everything in the post-Renaissance art world can be obliterated by pointing out that it isn't as good as Michelangelo, with the possible exception of Thomas Kinkaide.

Don't worry; you don't need to know a damn thing about Michelangelo to make this assertion, nor do you need to have engaged his work with any real curiosity or sustained attention. All you need are the usual hand-me-down schoolmarmish articles of faith about Michelangelo, to whit:

His art was pretty.

He painted the Sistine Chapel Ceiling and sculpted David.

He was influential, and a genius.

Unlike these offensive modern artists, he certainly never indulged in anything remotely homoerotic. Pu-leeze.

That's all you need to know!

4. Government shouldn't spend taxpayer dollars on art. Art doesn't fire Patriot missiles into brown-skinned wedding ceremonies.

5. Remember: there is nothing, nothing, of any interest happening in the world of modern art. It's all the Emperor's New Clothes. There's no need to check up on this; take it for granted.

Some of you may be wondering "Are there any distinctions between 'Modern Art,' 'Postmodern Art,' 'Conceptual Art,' 'Abstract Art,' and 'Pop Art?" The answer is no. Use these terms interchangeably.

6. If the person with whom you're arguing says anything that might undermine these positions, just blow them off. Why bother engaging unfamiliar worldviews? That has nothing to do with art.

Routeen Halloween

This Halloween, for the first time in about a decade, I handed out candy to trick-or-treaters. I was oddly nervous about it because in my imagination I visualized trick-or-treaters as aggro adolescents who might deface my car if they didn't care for the little candy bars we offered. To my relief trick-or-treaters turn out to be tiny children with sweet and/or shy dispositions, the timidest monsters I've ever seen.

I was aghast, though, to see most of the kids were being driven around our safe, pedestrian-friendly neighborhood in big suburban utility vehicles instead of walking. It was different for me and mine. We would go outside, in the dark and the Autumnal chill, tripping on our costumes, struggling to see through our masks, exploring our neighborhood on foot, knocking on doors we didn't know. It was a cozy adventure, almost an initiation ceremony; our parents were close behind, but still, the moonlight filtered down through the branches and made everything look like a less trustworthy version of our daytime world. Experiencing it on foot, fully outdoors, haunting or being haunted by the enormity of the starlit sky, made Halloween just a wee bit eldritch. Experiencing it from the back of a boring everyday vehicle just doesn't cut it; that's how kids experience everyday banality. It's neither a trick nor a treat; it's just average.

I fussed about this on Fecesbook (and let's face it, everybody who reads this blog is facebooked to me so you all saw it) and an old high school friend stood up for the automotive trick-or-treating process on the grounds that parents are tired. Well, I'm pretty sure my parents didn't have it any easier, but they still had the decency to lead us on our disguised walkabout. I was surprised this old friend took such a bourgeois stance, since in our younger days she'd been a devoted Edgar Allen Poe and H. P. Lovecraft fan. You'd think she'd retain some love for the real Halloween spooky spirit.

An Open Letter to a Dear Friend Who Doesn't Actually Read This Blog; or, No More Football Tests

Get out the list of attributes you require from The Woman In Your Life. Go down the list till you get to the part that says "validates my nerd-ass hobbies by fully sharing in them."

Now get out a Sharpie and mark through it. Totally redact that requirement.

I promise you'll be happier, luckier in love, and your blood pressure will defuse.