Some art thoughts we like…. passing the time until the end comes around. Part 1

Posted: February 13, 2013 in For your information, for your reflection, HIGH queer art, Real Food For Thought

This piece is re-posted back by popular demand. It has been in hiding for awhile. It was first published on July 21, 2012. We republish again to kick up the dust in the discuss of art.


A friend asked us if we would do a little bit of art on this blog, “You use to really stir up my mind with your art and heavens knows that I need a bit of a stirring now-a-days.” So we said, ok, and asked some of our dear hearts to come out and help. We used in this piece some of our art about photos, taken on our many walks around we found, we saw, declared, and recorded. As we mentioned in our series Oh! art Oh! these works are like party favors, something we brought home from art-a-bouts. Other works are works that we found when cruising around to sites known and unknown.

We like protest always have and something about revolt we cherish. We have no use for the wealthy in any of their bad manners shapes or form. Off with their heads rings our bells, and causes us to cum in our jeans. When we make old style art we make art that will disappear shortly. Nothing to buy, nothing to sell, nothing to make the rich richer, nothing to hang on our walls even if we need something to cover up the cracks and holes, but we have gotten use to them and as old Furbird says, They’re  so beautiful.

The first photo we dedicate to artist A-yo. The work is called By the seat of my pants and speaks to A-yo’s clothes line works. It was taken in the south end of town looking out a studio window into the backyards.

Some thoughts on art by Richard. (old style)

By the seat of my pants.

Little tee-pee askew. Wind comes up tee-pee a new.

Chair on the fence. (This chair is now gone)

Bye, Bye but how can you make snowballs leaving your gloves behind?

With alterations, Benny and Moe. Benny and Moe are two street artists who like to do things with signs and other stuff plastered around town. We feel they do a very nice job of entertaining us while we walk about with some of their creations.

Anonymous is an artist.

Little upside down appeared on the walls of Mrs. Curley’s living room when she removed layers of wall paper that had been on the walls for years. Old Curley was startled as she thought all this time, how long little upside down have you been spying on me. Do you watch me while I fuck well hung Hank the milkman on the sofa? Do you watch us while we watch our TV? Were you watching when Buddy boy brought home Benny and they kissed until I came in the door and told them to get a room? Mary O’Connor said that I should put a coat of preservative on you little upside down and have Hank build a frame and then I could have a nice work of art in my living room.

Have no fear

Art of the scary, art of change, art of demanding,  art of the seer, art of another way, art of our way, art of fight, art of the new. Art of the ha ha ha, fuck you!.

Art of the street, protest, fight back is our kind of art. The happening now up against the ruling class is what we like. Marching off to the voting booth is to far out for us. Same old same old, new boss, old boss, not for us. Voting is a lot like art. Both keep us from any real change, keep the rich rich and in control. Now we are not talking about art that serves the people. That says fuck you to the elite, museums and galleries. Art that serves in the street art that revolts. A fight that is the good fight no matter what some leftists say. Art of these times art that shakes and frightens the rulers. Just a little bit of this art for this essay we say.

by Emma Furbird Jr. and Cassey Role

Kicking back a tear gas container. A new twist on the game kick the can.

Kicking back a tear gas canisters to the police.

Tug of war

One of the 11 windows at the Denver Colorado Democratic Headquarters, 2009.

Ariel Attack art.

More shards on the street.

Yesterdays gone but not forgotten. Bring back yesterday. Yeh! yeh!

Our message loud and clear.

Oh ART Oh!!! a short one on this poster.

by punkpink

Got their head screwed on funny, who ever did this poster. You know if there is money to be made most artists will suck right up and cozy with the man. Famous, oh famous am I. We think selling to the rich and making the rich more comfortable is a high crime of class treason. There is a big danger in mixing with the upper classes of society exp. in the americkkkan dream land. The danger lies in getting sucked in and loosing your value as a speaker of the truth to power. You then become power. There are levels of danger and if you mix too well you will certainly loose that cutting edge that which makes you an artist in the first place.  Who would in these times when as they say the wheel is still in spin want to cozy with the rich. Cozy with those who make this world a miserable place for everyone.  We here find that most visual art except radical revolutionary art to be the same old same old by folks doing the same old thing, over and over again only calling it something different. But shit by any other name is still shit and it stinks.

Art has been so used for so long to justify the desires, avarice, decadence, and hubris of the social elite, ie. robber barons, art investors, social climbers, nouveau riche, those who are behind destroying the worlds economy and resources, the biggest abusers of our world.
This is the issue. The arrogance, of those who have no idea of the world they live in, but focus on stealing as much as they can.

We almost like the poster when we think yes some artists know which way the wind is blowing and are taking to the streets, singing ho ho ho smashing windows as they go. They are my type of gal. As I am nearing older now I can only see the art of radical protest as having any meaning in art.  The breaking of the banks windows, that starts the love of music flowing. Glass shards, taped up cracks, trash cans flung, kicking back tear gas canisters to the police, fists in the air, a thousand folks chanting, pushing back at the cops. Yes,to the smell of revolt in the air and action in the street.  The art of the people rising up to overthrow the capitalist system by any means, and yes overthrowing artists who cozy with the man. Some say these are privileged white kids, I say they know the true meaning of art of these times.

I love the young who move us from one place to the next. Who invent new language, new tools, new ways of making art. The world is our studio, gallery museum with our lives we paint the new day. Our dance a million feet marching, our song like the mighty rivers flow. They are the young sages of the planet earth. I can only hope they never change and join the man for a few bucks and fame. Burn fame! Burn a few bucks! Burn the mother fuckers who get rich on art! Get rid of those who keep this system floating. Flame up the galleries that move into an area,  any area and move out the poor by gentrifying the neighborhood. Flame up the rich who follow who want to be groovy for whom artist loft is a real estate term. Flame up those who push, push, push, push the working class out of their homes, who push out the small business, who push out the poor. When you see these types of folks coming, scream not in my neighborhood and chase them out with stick and pike. Everything around us is a criminal operation so why the fuck not?

Those who make the true art of the times will never sit at the rich man’s table. Will never clink our glasses with theirs and you know the old story how that all came about. No never toast bastards. Will never desire respectability in these times from those who murder and plunder the planet.

Thoughts on the diamond skull and the man.

by punkpink

Down with all fingers of the and the diamond class!

This work of art appeared on one of our favorite blogs, Trap- the real art of protest. Most of the people’s comments were how much they grooved on the skull not even seeing we don’t believe what Banksy is saying. We left a comment over there that went like this:

…and they say the same old thing as ever over and over again and try to make it appear like it is new but we know it isn’t.

We went to a show today where the artist really was saying nothing with a whole lot of work to say it. (see an example in our notes.)(1)

So we ask those who grooved on the diamond skull—-?–to all groovers. —?

What do you see in the diamond skull? Do you see slave labor? Do you see the very wealthy? Do you see death brought to us by the ultra wealthy? Do you see artists who cozy up to the man and everyone thinks its okay because artists are able to transcend and create. It is told to us that the diamonds in this piece are all ethically sourced but we do not believe that for one second as no diamonds are really. Yes, to Bansky and art of the revolt. Down with all fingers of the diamond class.  Down with the ruling class, down with their diamonds and down with Diamond Skull and art for the rich. Why do we want to make them comfortable? Why do we want to cozy up to them? Why do we praise art for and about them. Rid yourself of art of the master and the enemy. Remember we have nothing always had nothing. They have everything, always had everything. Some lie in the mud and filth on this planet and we have people like the ones in the story below. Part these nasty fucks from their money. While we are at it turn out art news for being a mouth piece of the rich. Let us not be fooled that artists and collectors are groovy and we should like them and all that they do because they tell us a truth and artists need to eat so they need collectors. Well we say there are far too many who say I am artist, hear me purr.

>>oh let us hope so. A message to the top 200 and the top beyond and the all around included too.

So tell me again that these types of folks don’t have money and again why they should get large tax breaks. Tell me again and I will call you a liar. Tell me over won’t you please why they deserve 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, houses and some folks squat in the woods near the park or under the bridge. Tell me again why they can spend all that money on a piece of art and then write about it like it is the normal and natural way. Remember we are in this for the real haul. They too are the so called 1%. They too keep the people from justice. They too send in the drones. They too send your sisters and  brothers to die in war. You get the art. The picture is clear, as clear can be. We do not threaten any of the above with harm. No we don’t. We find the stitches as found in Madame De Farge’s journal, WS, BO dec, LT, S1S1 to be becoming. Becoming down the road, so soon, so far away, becoming around the bend, becoming through the air, becoming in the streets as before all long time becoming but becoming it did. But all that comes later, comes later, comes later. All that comes later I’m sure I will be dead and gone. But the burning question, that is a burning sensation is, What would Madame Defarge Knit?

Just another example why we act the way we do.

by Emma Furbird Sr., May Day, and  Imalean Ham

Flash back to an event November 12, 2011 “An Artist’s Life Manifesto” by Marina Abramovic at MOCA with questions:

“i saw more famous people last night than in my whole life! one day their heads will be on our platters!” ..Addie Vuiitton.

First let us say we love you Addie. A true artist in these times. The photo below was taken outside of the Marina Abramovic’s performance at the MOCA Gala.

Artist Addie Vuiitton also attended the gala, but as a protester, not a performer, and she brought with her a sign showing a guillotine. Since performing artists appeared “beheaded on the tables of the ultra-rich,” it seemed a relevant metaphor. Another of the protesters with her had decided, at one point, to break in to the gala, dodged past security and made it far enough to yell to the guests that, one day, their heads would be on the tables. Guards escorted her out, but took no further measures. Then, said Vuiitton, the protesters went out for a beer and talked about starting an artists’ union.

 Here is a little run down about the event from various newspaper articles and blogs:

For the best see, Catherine Wagley’s piece, Marina Abramovic MOCA gala Controversy: Jeffrey Deitch Confronted and the Performers Speak Out.

The guests at MOCA’s annual galas are patrons high in the economic hierarchy: politicians, heirs, celebrities, moguls, entrepreneurs who’ve made bank. Tickets cost an arm and a leg — they ranged from $2,500 to $10,000 at this year’s gala on Nov. 12 — and the draw is always that some particularly famous artist “directs” the event, a deal made sweeter by the appearance of a token celebrity or two. Two years ago, Italian artist Francesco Vezzoli directed and Lady Gaga performed “Speechless,” but this year, the token celebrity, Debbie Harry, was less tantalizing to many in L.A.’s arts community than the director: Marina Abramovic. At her gala, most of the table centerpieces would be rotating human heads that would lock eyes with guests as they circled. Naked bodies (women only) positioned beneath life-sized skeletons would rotate around six additional tables, and a chorus of volunteers would also be needed to dress the guests in white lab coats and shout out Abramovic’s artist’s manifesto at the appropriate time. Artist Marjan Vayghan helped guests into white lab coats as they arrived (Abramovic requested all guests wear them) and recalled that some reacted viscerally to the prospect of covering themselves up. Artist Honey McMoney, who also helped with the lab coats, noted it became increasingly difficult to tell guests apart from the waiters, volunteers and performers. “The nature of the power structure started to crumble in a really delightful way,” he said.

And here is the big kicker but only one reason as to why  many of us wants their heads on platters.

Something else had been unwelcome at the museum, too. Abramovic initially wanted both male and female bodies to circle around those on those six special tables, but only women appeared. When MOCA director Jeffrey Deitch slipped in near the end of the forum, someone posed the question to him: why no naked men? “That was my request to Marina Abramovic,” said Deitch, citing the discomfort the conventional businessman feels when confronted with male nudity. “We subjected people to a lot of things,” he continued, but said when you push something out to the edge you have to be careful not to go over.   (So she caved in to the rich and the powerful who are afraid of a penis.) ( 2)

So let’s push them. Let them eat ass and lick balls for a start.


What a big bullshitter Honey Mc Money is. If the power structured crumbled, which it didn’t its all in his mind, it did it only for a night and it didn’t really do it at all.  The power structure was still there only they covered up themselves with white lab coats. But you know the blood could still be seen. No matter how much they scrubbed, how much they washed it was still there.  Only a fool who is not worth our trouble would entertain with such a foolish idea. Just because the rich were wearing white lab coats?  AND HEY SHIT HEAD artist Honey, the way you tell the wealthy from the workers is the wealthy have blood on their hands. You are not even funny Mr. Mc Money. These rich folks are as mean and as nasty and queer phobic as they were yesterday and will be the next day and the next day.

So Deitch didn’t want to push the business men too far.  So see that’s what we are talking about here. Don’t go over the edge, funding may dry up you may offend the rich, the powerful the really unworthy of art. Entertainment for the rich, as Severine 7 said,”So, this all seems like much ado about nothing. The art “world” is so excited when it thinks it has something resembling political controversy. But this is just more entertainment for the super-wealthy—not so different from the entire art industry as is. Now let’s move on to actual political controversies.

We couldn’t agree more. Let’s stop this entertaining of the rich thinking we are so groovy doing so. Let’s get on with the revolt. Bring on the guillotines. Fuck the whores of art who cozy with the rich. To the guillotine too. We could care less if you have suddenly found fame and respect amongst the villains of earth.

(3) So let’s end this with a little song that is big and says a lot. Listen to Malvina Reynold’s sing Boraxo.


   (1) According to the little blurb that goes with the show these wood carved and burned pieces explore how photography creates personal and historical memory. Although images of the past, the selections as they exist today take on new life as sculpture that is as much abstract as realistic.”  Some of this guys works were things that looked like tree growths with famous artists faces burned into the wood. Ho Hum. Now we are not saying that he doesn’t do a good job at what he does, why from across the room some of these pieces look like a bunch of old Sepia photos. Come to think of it they did look like old cuttlebone .

Here is another piece of the whole : Choreographer Yvonne Rainer stirred up debate last week when she lambasted performance artist Marina Abramovic’s plans to use human centerpieces for the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art’s annual gala. Rainer wrote a public letter to MOCA director Jeffrey Deitch, declaring Abramovic’s “An Artist’s Life Manifesto” to be “grotesque” and “exploitative” in its use of underpaid performers to create a queasy spectacle for wealthy patrons. The concept, she added, put her in mind of Pasolini’s 1975 Facist sexual torture film “Salo.”

For the top 200 collectors see Art News Summer 2012.

(2)For more on the female nude and male spectator see John Berger’s Ways of Seeing. This is nothing new. The art form of the European nude the painters and the spectator-owners were usually men and the persons treated as objects, usually were  women. We may think we are past that but those who pull the strings aren’t.

(3) Boraxo

It’s all right, it’s all right,
If you’re righteous it’s all right,
Tho you’ve had your hands in blood up to the elbow;
You can always wash them clean with Boraxo.
Boraxo, Boraxo, the greatest stuff of all,
Boraxo in the bathroom, detergents in the hall,
Your dainty feet don’t touch the street
Like people poor and mean,
And your conscience is washed clean with Boraxo.

The cop shot Rector on the roof,
The cop is clear of blame,
His uniform was spotless,
His rifle was the same.
The coppers carry dark wood clubs
So blood can not be seen,
And they always wash them clean
With Boraxo.


The student is protesting,
The copper clubs his hair.
His head is private property
But no one seems to care.
The happiness he’s fighting for
Is earth and life and green,
And it can’t be scoured clean
With Boraxo.


“My goal is to grow and attain recognition as an artist, so that I can have the means to further develop my vision and reach a larger audience with my work.”…. a misguided young artist.

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