Thursday, October 6, 2011

An artistic assault on the ears

I read a great little article which explains why 'museums are bulging with visitors who come to view works they secretly detest'.

Something happened in my twenties which this article reminded me of straight away.
It's why I think the author's  main point is right on the money (there's a link to the article at the end of this post).

Here's what happened...

A friend of mine has a musical genius brother who was participating in a recital of his latest composition at London's South Bank.
I persuaded another friend of mine, Jeremy, who is also a splendid musician to come along too.
I thought he might enjoy it since I had it on good authority the composer in question was extremely talented and capable.

After the lights went down and the composition started Jeremy and I were both in for a bit of a shock.

In the dark, it sounded like some people with their shoelaces tied togehter were trying to steal the instruments, or perhaps a bunch of animals with xylophones and pots and pans strapped to them were banging into each other.

Sounds clanged and squealed. 
It was worse than listening to a construction site.
At least there you could discern the rhythm of a jack hammer.

The players emerged from the dark as spotlights were employed.
I hoped their visibility might cause them some embarrasment, perhaps enough to squeak out a tune.
But the music remained relentlessly awful.

We were just at the start, with a couple of hours to go.
Jeremy just got up and left, since he wasn't a friend of the family.
I had to sit there, for what seemed like an eternity, for fear of seeming rude.

After all, I knew the composer, and was there with his brother.
And I was a friend of the family.

And I fancied his sister.
So there was really no escape for me.

For a while I kept hoping this torture would evolve into something bearable, but eventually I just stoically accepted my fate and sat it out.
At least until the interval, when I darted off for a strategic 'emergency bathroom break' and headed for a bathroom somewhere far across town.

On the way I had a drink with Jeremy, who had been nice enough to wait  outside.

And now, with no further ado, I urge you to read THIS ARTICLE and discover the secret of how the 20th Century art scene got away with it (although of course it's not over yet)...

Besides that, my Winged Angel Mice are still available for a half price pre-order on Kickstarter (click HERE to see more).

Click these links to visit my website... - Sculpture that loves you back
or my Etsy store, CritterVille



Anonymous said...

My school really supports this type of art. And here I was starting to feel I was the only one who could not stand it! Hah, thanks for posting.

Steve sculpts critters said...

While it was a lot of fun and great in a lot of ways, I didn't really learn anything useful about drawing and painting until after I'd finished art school and made an effort to seek it out on my own.
They taught a few illustration techniques, but none of the fundamental stuff.
Sort of 'how to ice the cake', no 'how to make the cake in the first place'.