Month: February 2006

Mr. T pities the fool who doesn’t believe in art for art’s sake.

All your plinths are belong to us.

Damien Hirst roundhouse kicked a shark so hard that the water around it turned to glass. He sold it to Saatchi as “The Physical Impossibility Of Death In The Mind Of Someone Living”.

If you had an infinite number of Jake and Dinos Chapmans at easels they would eventually produce the complete works of Goya. Only they would suck.

Not art: a urinal. Art: a signed urinal. Duchamp: a signed urinal that the admissions committe for an open exhibition refuse to accept, despite saying they’ll take work form anyone who pays the admission fee.

A ninja drops caltrops in the path of a pirate. The pirate has a peg leg, and so hops though the caltrops unaffected. He slashes at the ninja with his cutlass. But the ninja has disappeared in a puff of smoke. The pirate cleaves the smoke with his blade to no effect.

“And so, ” said the Baron “the ringing of my diving bell allowed me to lift from the ocean floor the heaviest pearl ever discovered. I later had it made into a brooch by the finest craftsmen in the land.”

“But Baron, ” interjected the host, “surely such a weighty trinket could never actually be worn. It would be worthless!”

The Baron paused but for a moment.

“My dear sir, as you know, the defining characteristic of art is its inutility. The value of art is therefore in direct and inverse proportion to its utility. Given that a pearl brooch of unwearable weight must be entirely useless, its artistic value must therefore be infinite.”

Jeff Koons doesn’t sleep. He waits.

Your dog wants relational aesthetics.

Leonardo has a posse.

I, for one, welcome our new badly painted found image overlords.