Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Some like it weird
Last night, Jason and I did something rather posh. We went to an art show in Chelsea and walked around with glasses of champagne and I actually heard someone use the word "ghastly" in real life for the first time. We mainly went because they had a photography exhibit featuring Norman Parkinson (a brilliant photographer who is most known for his avant garde fashion shoots for Vogue) whose work I have admired for years. But that was only a small part of the show in its entirety. The rest of it was different booths that had pieces for sale either from local galleries or directly from the artists. I'll be perfectly honest. Some art, I get. Even some of the strange pieces. I can sometimes see the beauty hidden in a piece that isn't particularly lovely on the surface. But some art? I don't get at all. I cannot for the life of me understand what the artist was thinking or why in God's name anyone would want that in their home where they have to look at it every single day. Prime example: We were strolling through the gallery and all the sudden, Jason goes "There's your boyfriend." (That's sort of a little running joke between us - whenever we see something particularly ugly, one of us says "There's your boy/girlfriend.") I look up and in front of me is a life size statue sort of thingy that is a scary-ish minotaur-type thingy with his, hmmmm... how do you say... junk (or naughty bits if you prefer) very prominently displayed. In rather painstaking detail. Ewww. No thank you. But sure enough, I'll bet there's someone out there who would actually buy it. Maybe that someone is you? No? Ok. I understand.