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ART: THE FINAL FRONTIER
Jan. 24th, 2007 03:10 pmKatie and I correspond frequently during the day. You might think, naïve as you are, that we see quite enough of each other the rest of the time without clogging up cyperspace with further communication during working hours. But no. Our conversations are enlightened, witty, even erudite. We may, in the fullness of time, publish some sort of anthology, edited and possibly even annotated. The reason I mention this is not for our own glorification, but because the fruits of an exchange today was, to use the hackneyed expression, a work of art. I use the word ‘art’ to, naturally, encompass the entire spectrum of the creative arts, from the humble thumb painting to the most lurid, nay, tawdry, inventions of the Great Tunbridge Wells Authors.
Think of this, if you will, as a sort of installation. A monument to our modern civilisation, with perhaps a nod to outmoded concepts and cultures. I shall lay the scene, so that you might fully appreciate the irony, the post-modernism, the subtle use of colour and technique, the bold, sweeping statements, the… well, you get the idea.
It began, as the best stories do, with a discussion on the weather.
Katie
Re hypothermia, I have donned my knee length stripy socks in an attempt to be less cold. I fear it will not be enough... [This, and the next few posts, are mere introductory flannel; a groundwork, if you like, for the good stuff.]
Liss
I was tempted by the concept of buying some knee-highs in Boots. I am wearing actual proper tights, and my legs are still f*cking freezing. They'll fall off, and then where will I be? In a ditch, that's where.
Katie
Bless you.
I did think on the way here that I should habve brought normal socks as well, as my feet get cold, but I didn't and I'll just have to live with the consequences.
Liss
"Always supposing we live," she muttered darkly.
Apols for narrative, but I felt it best expressed my tone. I think the ice age is once again upon us, and everyone needs to find shelter in the nearest cave, possibly daubing a pictorial representation of their ice age-induced woe, angst and grief on the cave ceiling, in lieu of LJ. [Here it is, the sublime moment! I said an amusing thing. We move on from this point, into the wonder of 21st century self-refentialism. It is glorious to see it in action. Watch closely, you don’t want to miss a second of the action.]
Katie
You should post something along those lines *on* LJ. It would raise some chuckles, I feel. [Here begin the problems of modern art and artists. Listen carefully and learn, my children.]
Liss
But the comment has lost its spontaneity now. Twould not be the same. [You see the problem? You understand it, in all its complexities?]
I long for chocolate. [And here, mixed carelessly with the sublime, we see the mundane slipping through, a sign that even the highest of minds come but from mortal humans.]
Katie
No-one else knows it has lost its spontaneity... [The agony… for the artist would know. The artist will always know! If you smack a squirrel in a vacuum, does anyone hear it squeak? The principle is exactly the same.]
Get chocolate on the way to the Beeb. Possibly of the Hot variety.
The keeps coming out as teh, even when I don't mean it to. Most vexing.
Liss
It is the nature of the typo. They are ghastly creatures. I have personally never understood why Word will not autocorrect nad into and. Surely no-one's ever going to actually voluntarily type nad?
Hot chocolate sounds like an excellent plan. There is a Starbucks on the way (sort of) to the tube, so I might make a slight detour and go wild on the hot beverage front.
But we would know. And there would be that dreadful thing where you crack a joke or say something amusing once, and it would be ha ha ha and then you repeat it in an email to lots of other people, and there's less ha ha ha but still some mild appreciation on the part of the first person, and then you LJ it, and the first person gets very pissed off that you keep telling the same story/joke/amusing thing over and over again. [It’s so awful! How is anything ever made? How can we live with this knowledge. The consequences of this series of events are dreadful, they burn the artist’s brain.]
I should phone the Payroll people here and check that they've had my paperwork and will pay me this month before I start throwing money at extra-large peppermint hot chocolates...
Katie
Well you've only said it to me, non? And I'm the one who said to post it so... Do as your conscience dictates, ma squeen.
I too pass a Starbucks on the way to the Hammersmith and Shitty line (oh how I love that cheery nickname) so I shall indulge in a caramel hot choc of as yet undetermined size.
Liss
Heee. Had a thought. Will post in smug ironical post-modern self-referential way. With your permission, ma chere Katie, je voudrais poster toute notre conversation. Do you see? Do you see the genius? My god, I should just get myself some kind of installation somewhere... [The joyous final climax of this artistic endeavour.]
*overwhelmed by own genius. yet again.* [The modern mind: do we see here arrogance, or merely a crude braggadocio, aimed at covering a wounded, fragile soul? Can we ever know?]
Think of this, if you will, as a sort of installation. A monument to our modern civilisation, with perhaps a nod to outmoded concepts and cultures. I shall lay the scene, so that you might fully appreciate the irony, the post-modernism, the subtle use of colour and technique, the bold, sweeping statements, the… well, you get the idea.
It began, as the best stories do, with a discussion on the weather.
Katie
Re hypothermia, I have donned my knee length stripy socks in an attempt to be less cold. I fear it will not be enough... [This, and the next few posts, are mere introductory flannel; a groundwork, if you like, for the good stuff.]
Liss
I was tempted by the concept of buying some knee-highs in Boots. I am wearing actual proper tights, and my legs are still f*cking freezing. They'll fall off, and then where will I be? In a ditch, that's where.
Katie
Bless you.
I did think on the way here that I should habve brought normal socks as well, as my feet get cold, but I didn't and I'll just have to live with the consequences.
Liss
"Always supposing we live," she muttered darkly.
Apols for narrative, but I felt it best expressed my tone. I think the ice age is once again upon us, and everyone needs to find shelter in the nearest cave, possibly daubing a pictorial representation of their ice age-induced woe, angst and grief on the cave ceiling, in lieu of LJ. [Here it is, the sublime moment! I said an amusing thing. We move on from this point, into the wonder of 21st century self-refentialism. It is glorious to see it in action. Watch closely, you don’t want to miss a second of the action.]
Katie
You should post something along those lines *on* LJ. It would raise some chuckles, I feel. [Here begin the problems of modern art and artists. Listen carefully and learn, my children.]
Liss
But the comment has lost its spontaneity now. Twould not be the same. [You see the problem? You understand it, in all its complexities?]
I long for chocolate. [And here, mixed carelessly with the sublime, we see the mundane slipping through, a sign that even the highest of minds come but from mortal humans.]
Katie
No-one else knows it has lost its spontaneity... [The agony… for the artist would know. The artist will always know! If you smack a squirrel in a vacuum, does anyone hear it squeak? The principle is exactly the same.]
Get chocolate on the way to the Beeb. Possibly of the Hot variety.
The keeps coming out as teh, even when I don't mean it to. Most vexing.
Liss
It is the nature of the typo. They are ghastly creatures. I have personally never understood why Word will not autocorrect nad into and. Surely no-one's ever going to actually voluntarily type nad?
Hot chocolate sounds like an excellent plan. There is a Starbucks on the way (sort of) to the tube, so I might make a slight detour and go wild on the hot beverage front.
But we would know. And there would be that dreadful thing where you crack a joke or say something amusing once, and it would be ha ha ha and then you repeat it in an email to lots of other people, and there's less ha ha ha but still some mild appreciation on the part of the first person, and then you LJ it, and the first person gets very pissed off that you keep telling the same story/joke/amusing thing over and over again. [It’s so awful! How is anything ever made? How can we live with this knowledge. The consequences of this series of events are dreadful, they burn the artist’s brain.]
I should phone the Payroll people here and check that they've had my paperwork and will pay me this month before I start throwing money at extra-large peppermint hot chocolates...
Katie
Well you've only said it to me, non? And I'm the one who said to post it so... Do as your conscience dictates, ma squeen.
I too pass a Starbucks on the way to the Hammersmith and Shitty line (oh how I love that cheery nickname) so I shall indulge in a caramel hot choc of as yet undetermined size.
Liss
Heee. Had a thought. Will post in smug ironical post-modern self-referential way. With your permission, ma chere Katie, je voudrais poster toute notre conversation. Do you see? Do you see the genius? My god, I should just get myself some kind of installation somewhere... [The joyous final climax of this artistic endeavour.]
*overwhelmed by own genius. yet again.* [The modern mind: do we see here arrogance, or merely a crude braggadocio, aimed at covering a wounded, fragile soul? Can we ever know?]
