Death in Venice. How I died from overwrought, self-indulgent art.

If you’ve read Death in Venice by Thomas Mann, you’ll know the protagonist Gustav von Aschenbach dies a self-indulgent painted-fool blinded by his passions. Walking the canals of Venice, I can’t help but think so many of the exhibits at La Biennale reflect a similar foolishness. Tangles of wire cabling and crushed plasterboard are not art, even if you fill an enormous room full of … Continue reading Death in Venice. How I died from overwrought, self-indulgent art.

F%#k pretty pictures: how one artist brings a tender approach to loss

Art is emotional. Art is worthless unless it gets a reaction. Fuck pretty pictures and lovely things to hang on your walls. Art needs to pour energy into your bones like a thumping early-dawn ecstacy high or the rush from spiked street iced coffee in Hanoi. Art is about the blood coursing around your heart, steaming through your mind and banging a reaction from you. … Continue reading F%#k pretty pictures: how one artist brings a tender approach to loss

There’s a lot of shit at @la_Biennale but Grisha #Bruskin is crazy wild #art #videoart

I’m going to say it straight out. There’s a lot of shit at the Venice Biennale. Two planks nailed to a wall? Shit. Self-indulgent video of artist? Shit. So much of it reminds me of the Emporer’s New Clothes by Hans Christian Anderson. The wonderful thing about there being so much shit is that the brilliant work stands out like a beacon in a storm. By … Continue reading There’s a lot of shit at @la_Biennale but Grisha #Bruskin is crazy wild #art #videoart