Pig’s Art

A good friend of mine is taking a class on Contemporary art, and he has decided he detests it. Not the class, the art. I’ve been trying to figure out if I like it, or not, but there are so many different artists and styles that I can’t really know. We went to the exhibition of a Belgian artist, Wim Delvoye, who has a pig farm in China (to avoid punishment for animal cruelty) and he tattoos and stuffs them to make his exhibition. In short, one of the rooms had a video showing the pigs being pigs, and another room had the tattoo-ed, stuffed pigs.

They are a set of unpretentious, kind of cute in their own pinkie, chunky way, pigs, and yet something, maybe the lighting in the place, killed the mood. Too bad because I would have really enjoyed looking at dead pigs.

(This is Louise, with her elegant Louis Vuitton; he uses a lot of well known brands and patterns)

I’m being facetious. No, I don’t think I consider that art, no I wouldn’t have one in my living room, and I hope if I ever have kids I won’t take them to museums of contemporary art and have the poor kids come bawling out of there because of dead pigs, and have to wake up at 3 in the morning because they’re having nightmares of these creatures.

Contemporary art is too much about the individual interpretation, and I am not sure I like that. I don’t want to have to do the work that the artist should have done himself. It’s like going to a restaurant and cooking your own meal, and then giving credit to the magnificent chef for letting you do it. Bollocks.

Maybe I’m too simplistic for it. I wouldn’t fill my house with corny mountain ranges and paintings of lake houses and my dog, but I want something I couldn’t have done myself. Throwing a pile of garbage together and calling it art is not for me. I am not saying art has to be visually pleasing- in fact, I find Dali a little troubling at times, but it is full of hidden pictures, and he reuses some figures, and I enjoy looking at the ensemble of his creativity.

But seriously, pigs?