http://galleristny.com/2014/02/shit-show-matthew-barneys-river-of-fundament-comes-to-brooklyn/
Fundament is literally a river of shit. As far as I can see the mainstream of the contemporary art word is built on this foundation. And yet another attempted poke in the eye of the bourgeoisie- a Santa with a butt plug- aren't you sorry you missed that one for Christmas-no?
http://www.artspace.com/paul_mccarthy/santa_with_butt_plug
Come-on!- they have been doing this think for over 150 years- epater le Bourgeosie. (scare the crap out of the middlebrow, shopkeepers, lumpen proletariat- whatever), When my husband was at Brown in the physics and engineering department, the RISD professors were all over him to help create the next great thing- ANYTHING to get their name out there, anything but learn how to paint!
You can find these masterpieces on their links as I have enough crapola on this blog.
In this fundament funk, I have been trolling the internet to find-if not totally like-minded artist- but sane and sincere ones.
These three painters look like they ACTUALLY like to paint, really paint- not some joyless, schlockmeister exercise to -again- WOW the critics and shock the public. I hope they can find someone to shock- after Lena Dunham's naked romps on HBO and our predilection to maniacal mass murders in this country- the pickings are slim-nuns maybe.
The following three painters look like they actually like to paint.
Sangram Mujumdar; handles both figurative and abstract with equal finesse;
http://www.sangrammajumdar.com/
Ian Warburton painting in the south of France, has a sumptuous feel for color- that he finds in his garden.
http://ianbevwarburton.blogspot.com/
Frank Hobbs
http://frank-hobbsart.com/
Frank Hobbs is a professor of art at Ohio Wesleyan University. His blogs are thoughtful and informative- they range from the figurative to the abstract. Some are designed for his students- but but they all well worth looking at.
In Shakespeare' play "The Tempest" Prospero has to leave the Island for Milan and quit his magic for the sake of his daughter. This is his lament is giving up the thing that defines him- his magic.
Sir, I invite your highness and your train
To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest
For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste
With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it
Go quick away; the story of my life
And the particular accidents gone by
Since I came to this isle: and in the morn
I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-beloved solemnized;
And thence retire me to my Milan, where
Every third thought shall be my grave.
If ever I heard a reason to keep on keeping on, it is this beautiful and telling phrase..
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