The books are fake.
When I graduated I posed for this photograph with an empty folder in front of a cardboard print of some books. This symbolised my degree. Minimalism means nothing. I shall post again concerning this subject and why most people are RIGHT. Dadaa was important when Duchamp originated the idea in Germany in the 20s. repeating an idea such as this is possibly the least aim the arts have ever sunk to in a squalour of paucity; of LACK, of a desperate dirth of original thought. In the most destructive manner
Damien main Hurst is a DICKHEAD.
It is not worth repeating. It is utterly facile. This is not an opinion. It is about VALIDITY. Passion. TRUTH. WORTH. Fucking VALUE.
This is SOME OF the absurd vacuous hypocrisy that I was subjected to by ‘my intellectual ’betters. How I long to crush their paltry puerile and vicious excuses for minds and hearts beneath my Occum’s razor-clad HEEL. Now that I am STRONG. Cruelty whilst I fought madness and alcoholism in a hell utterly beyond their comfortable, delusional, and ugly comprehension.
And they are nothing to me.
They serve only to hurt and corrupt bright youth.
I have avoided publishing this in the past. But I offer it to my fellows, compatriot’s lovers and peers. Tweak the details and FIGHT BACK.
I went to fine art tafe. I also got a fine arts degree from Curtin University in western Australia.
I shouldn’t comment on the rest of the art schools in Perth or indeed in Australia, but I believe the likelihood of homogeneity across the nation throbs with probability of malice.
Uni hm. Where my work was continually insulted and I was, more than anything else, an object of ridicule.
To them, may I take this time and moment to say to them?
SUCK MY BALLS YOU TALENTLESS FAILURES.
Oh still teaching huh? Mutilating the hopes of fragile brilliant minds? Here’s a quote for any teachers and lecturers that believe that harshness and sadism will help their students:
“You look to me like you dare not look into the mirror too often? Am I right? But I see you, I see you alone, and you slip up – you slip and you glance in the mirror.
And you know you should have killed yourself years ago.”
This is, of course, my arrogance being subsuming, is a quote from ME. In a previous incarnation as a really really really REALLY messed up teenager, I wrote this on the test given by a math’ teacher I had.
He was mean to me. I was in year ten. There were kafuffles aplenty after I wrote this. The temptation to wax oh with such lyricism about school is omnipresent but I shall refrain as I have got a lot of these things to write and I am digressing already.
The drop out rate at Curtin University School of fine art is, in first year, two thirds. 66%. Personally I don’t think this is because of the flakiness of art students. Yes. They are flaky. Some of them even have eczema. But that just ain’t it, folks. The reason that so many kids drop out is because the lecturers (though I am SURE they love puppies but yeah even Hitler was nice to his dog) are mean spirited motherfuckers and systematically dismantle the egos and ambitions of eager young students. This is not universal but man, I was there for a few years, and it prevails.
And the truth is that the establishment is still the establishment, and just as dictatorial and elitist as it has always fucking been. There is this oddity: that contemporary art has been anti establishment for so long that this very theme has become the establishment, and one cannot expect to receive high marks unless one makes like a good student and attacks the establishment. As long as it isn’t the person marking you, that is. Nuts, huh? EVERYONE GO AND READ CATCH 22.
That’s just general advice but sure as hell specifically applies.
I admit, I learned a vast amount whilst I was doing my degree. It exposed me to a great deal of new ideas, and media. I learned almost exclusively DESPITE being there.
Oh how sour the grapes of my wrath and wow I used clichés without making fun of them. It’s the rage. Yes.
Here, have a back up quote from my handy odd exact memory:
“You might as well have taken out your dick and pissed all over us.”
This was said to a friend of mine in third year during his final review. His work in many ways was exactly what they wanted (only it contained some skill, big no no and slap across the academic knuckles) but he was not good at explaining what he meant. I got into a fight with the vicious simpleton who said this at that point. I regret not trying to get her fired. But I was in their grip too, of course.
The thing that makes my lip curl into a sneer at this subject is not so much that incident – that was in 3rd year. It’s the 16 and 17-year-old kids. Every set of reviews where I was present, at least two or three students would be in tears.
Fracturing and then crushing their creativity must be satisfying. Imagine, having given up on being creative because awwwww you couldn’t make money out of it after failing to sell whatever detestable ugliness you were making after the first two or three years, you could GET A JOB AS A TUTOR. Use all that venom on defenceless, hopeful youth. Some of those guys have been there for 20 years, longer. It must be rife with entertainment and vindication.
Of course, contempt breeds contempt. Perhaps this is why the art world is so elitist. That’s probably what everyone learned at Uni.
So I say to those arts “teachers” (in the loosest possible use of the term) – who act thus, again:
Suck my balls. My work is about beauty and emotion. It is as honest as I can make it. And people BUY IT.
Pretend that minimalism moves you, and that following dada AGAIN is fucking VALID. Hurt another talented child and make them give up. Make them cry.
And don’t pick up the clay or brush. Like the salary you draw, and the breath you take, hey, I’m here to tell you –
IT IS WASTED ON YOU.