While I work on an indictment against the people or person to blame for Heath’s Ledger’s death, we can keep busy with other little projects. Today I visisted an art gallery right on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Check it out if you like aluminum foil and interesting music. Warhol did attack all the media as they were presented to him, and mastered them all. Few can say that. He liked to talk about a lot more that cute boys. Check out his personal diaries. They are brilliant!
I don’t like to be mean, but I think covering the walls with Reynolds wrap, mummifying a few household compliances for good measure goes beyond passe’. It’s so unoriginal that I would deride a 14-year-old for such a presentation. A show like this illustrates how badly the Plague devistated the ranks of the creative and the promising to be creative geniuses. There’s no need to name names at this point. It’s hurtful and counterproductive. Yes, Warhol was a genius. Duh. I mean if there were catostrophic levels of Duh, then most of the artists and certainly whoever curated this show deserves a catastrophic DUH. You can hear it in my voice toward the end when I say, “I’ve always loved foil.”
Maybe they will show a cool local artits like David Sandlin (who is now showing at La Luz de Jesus Gallery until Groundhog’s Day).
Well let’s take it down a few notches. Here’s a delerius crackhead. And I don’t mean LOL delerious either! I still don’t understand the newbie or the old timer who would be so devoid of common sense as to try this shit.