Saturday, 22 September 2012

Performance Art

There's a good joke about performance art 'How many performance artists does it take to change a lightbulb?- I don't know I left after the first three hours'. That's how bad performance art can be and it seems to be everywhere, I've just seen what seemed quite reasonable adults decide to a) sit on a stepladder and read HG Well's The Time Machine while a video replays over and over and over something I couldn't give a fuck about and b) Tear up a book they have made and stuff the remains in to a milk bottle then c) cut up a book with a scalpel and staple the pages to a wall panel. This was clearly an utter waste of time and energy for all three artists and anybody unfortunate enough to watch, but it was instead consumed with a sense of  wonder by an assortment of hamsters three floors up in the higher sanctums at the London Book Fair.
The only positive I could take away was that I could never every do anything as bad.
We live in a world of madness. Capitol One have been chasing me for £17.50 for a week, they must have phoned from everypart of the globe. It is clearly their policy, for the sake of £17.50 to make your life so miserable that you BUY them off (see post below). The story is worse since I
agreed to pay the money on a certain date with the first man from Capitol One I called when I received the initial text message. I even said to the charming Scotsman; 'You are not going to set the dogs on me are you!' So he proceeded, obviously, to do precisely that. In that context of extreme consumption, and general despair, with the whole edifice of consumerism creaking under the weight of oversupply, that these stupid twits reduce themselves to doing performance art.
Tate Modern has such a program running presently in the turbine hall,  I suggest that when approached by the actors/artists recruited for this particular scam, you tell them sharply to FUCK OFF, and if we all did it at the same time, that would be an art event for sure.

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