I attended an opening last night for this guy and while I certainly wasn't repulsed, annoyed, or irked by his work, his fans, or art fans in general, I can't say the same.
Every comment I eavesdropped sounded like the same generic bullshit I've seen and heard swallowed and purged as individual cognition.
"Do these assholes even know what they're saying/think?" I'd find myself thinking to myself. That isn't meant to be an indictment of their grasp of the piece and its paling in comparison to my own, but in fact an actual question. So often I notice people espousing word strings being masqueraded as original thought when in fact it's something the speaker read or overheard.
Art and creative exhibitions as a circle jerk exercise (redundant?) are not for me. Oh, you with the ironic outfit, can you choose somewhere to have your discussion on the night's activities somewhere other than DIRECTLY in front of the piece I'm trying to look at? Thanks. Nice mustache, asshole.
The night wasn't all douchebags worthy of a fist flurry (to the face for boys and the agina for the girls) for their artistic pretensions. I also got to hang out in the company of CD Djs!!!
Let me preface/soften this section by saying that I'm sure there's some skill and a general degree of difficulty to overcome in the world of compact dics jockeying. However, that being said, shut the fuck up. Chances are you're a glorified button pusher and what you do isn't important, interesting, worthy of any acclaim you might reap. I'm all for having fun, playing/listening to music, dancing--but you're not a DJ.
I don't feel like harping on these subjects of societal dregs (fake-DJs, party photographers, underground socialites) any longer. Listen to Leviathan's last (and by last I mean most recent AND final) album and enjoy the hate. It's super fun playing air drums to "Sacred Scars."
Random note: I just found a gray hair--fuck life.