A pioneering new breed of NYC art professionals, you cower under the guise of street artists suitable for a mere fragmentary aesthetic, a fetishized action of banality. Your work is a trough for the gallery owners and critics. You are specialists, and your art is representation of the most vulgar kind: An alienated commodity, deteriorated into a realm of legitimacy and petrification. Your work is beyond recovery. All you can do now is liquidate yourselves.
A dadaist once smashed a clock, dipped the pieces in ink, pressed the ink-soaked pieces against a sheet of paper and had it framed. His purpose was to criticize the modernist idealization of efficiency. Rather than inspiring the widespread smashing of clocks and the reevaluation of time in society, the pice of paper has become a sought after commodity. The production of a representative organ [the ink-imprinted paper] for the action [the smashing of the clock] guarantee this outcome. Like an idealistic politician, the piece of paper, despite its creator's intent, can only represent, and it is for this reason that it instantly became a fetishized object segregated from the action. Only in a culture obsessed with its own excrement are the by-products of action elevated above action itself.
Representation is the most elemental form of alienation. Art as representation is no exception. It is just another means by which our perceptions and desires are mediated. Art is the politician of our senses: it creates actors and an audience, agents and a mass. True creativity is the joyful destruction of this hierarchy; it is the unmediated actualization of desires. The passion for destruction is a creative passion.
See also:
Against Streetart: Tale of the Paint Splasher
The Splasher Speaks
ePublished on 07-January-2008 by
Lust for Life
http://www.lust-for-life.org
rasputin@lust-for-life.org
In association with
Point of Departure
http://www.point-of-departure.org
rasputin@point-of-departure.org