Art Attack

Have been exposed to a lot of art over the last few weeks--not on purpose; I just happen to have friends who know the scene.

For instance, saw an outdoor photography show put together under Interstate 95 a couple of weekends ago. The photographer is named Zooey or Franny or something and LM doesn't like her because she finds her work to be exploitative. You might agree. Her subjects are primarily the poor people in Philadelphia and New Jersey; photos of drugged out fifteen year old boys sporting badly done ink tattoos and holding babies with dirty, sad faces, little girls with fat tummies filled with Ho-Ho's, Arctic Ice lemonade, and Wonder Bread, those same little girls all grown up with badly done roots, missing teeth, and black eyes, fat naked men lying on sheet-less, stained mattresses, and dozens of outdoor shots of the bleakest buildings and parking lots you've ever seen, crack vials strewn over used condoms over feces. Something like that.

Then, last Friday, LM and I went to a film festival featuring undergrad and grad projects from Temple students. Nothing really arresting or interesting--it's mean and small-hearted to make fun of movies made by eighteen year olds, but seriously: a film about the dangers of drinking Coors Light? A black and white film featuring a young artist girl all in white who regrets selling one of her ugly original pieces because it gets mass-marketed by another college student in a suit and a bluetooth...Another with a beautiful though shy and introverted young girl jealous of her more accomplished sister, but who picks up the viola one day and is able to play it like a virtuoso. Not that I could've done better at that age (though secretly, of course, I believe that I could. Not many of them had a sense of humor or play...Most were very serious and dramatic).

This weekend, went to see an art opening at Fleischer with Mary Beth and her boyfriend and her boyfriend's friend who had long fingernails and a droopy moustache (he plays the guitar; hence, the scary long nails). Can't remember his name--Carver, Carter, Carla? The best thing about art openings is the free cheese and grapes and wine or juice. Maybe I should think about making a career out of attending openings; grazing at the table and occasionally browsing the art and make snap judgments about it based solely on personal opinion.

By the way, why is that when you do a google image search for "art" you get a few paintings and then like photographs of naked women? I guess pretty much every google search yields at least a percentage of nudity? And I don't mean work like this. You could probably put in the words "Peanut butter and jelly" and find yourself faced with nubile young girls dressed in nothing but some Smucker's grape jam.