narcisistic woke liberal cosmpolitan ideology? Or the bastard child of crypto-marxist - Critical Theory and poststructuralism?
Tomato, Tomahto. Six of one, half dozen of the other.
I would have little to say about art, it's been a long time since I concerned myself with it. I find it surprising if there is a recognizable thread of commonality in art across the globe, a homogeneity, like the whole world were plugged into an intimate little art collective. When you say installation art, do you mean like the big ass kind of shit that states/provinces/countries buy to plop down around government buildings or public parks? I live in the capital of my country, so wealthy, and conventional, cautious, conservative sensibilities, like placid nephew who manages to be nerdy, but without being smart, isn't weird or quirky, and can't be bothered with any keen interests or immersive hobbies. So, my city s riddled with big bland art in greys and muted browns, that don't have any timely issue narrative or ideological themes, and are devoid of any properties that might inspire such things in the public's imagination. The sort you see within our National Gallery often look like a junk pile, or some trash and i got in trouble one time for sitting on one that i thought was an ottoman for resting.
I have seen more and more BBDA (Big Bland Dumb Art), and more UMBA (Ugly Messy Boring Art) that comes with tombstone didactics that are elaborate, loquacious, grandiose, and aspirational. These little instructional essays under the list of media feel like where the artist poured 98% of the energy. They are absurdly ambitious with yearning passion driven by a zeal for symbol and metaphor. The word slurry coalesces into a proud nonesuch that is a comforting prescriptive for attaining a righteous posture via the cover of unassailable rhetoric. Ekphrasis put to purpose, now commands its audience with all the specificity, nuance and depth of a 14 year old girl at her first Pussyhat™ protest march. The reader feels suitably inspired and sagacious without having to brace or weigh anything. No commitment is required, and no action as the pious feeling has already been accomplished and reinforced in the safe confines of a contained feedback system. He is a cognoscenti, he must deserve the heady pleasure of conceit and condescension owing to his importance and authority as an upright moral agent of change who is definitely in the correct camp up atop the moral high ground free of messy uncertainty.
Oh flacid and florid satire, why you amuse me so, you so bitter and cynical, but you funny!
The tiny epics in those freewheeling art explications do amaze and amuse me: it's brazen ego masturbating art porn as guide and self-image accessory that references pretty much nothing. They are recognizably a genre, something like the purple product of a Masterclass with the bastard offspring of a Shakespearean Sonnet and Slick Shifty the hi-fi stereo sales guy. Those little fun plaques are really the only way I can think of that would ever tip an audience off as to it's clear and lucid song of virtue and splain to them about its vivid ideological truthiness. Ugggh, watching this process, but at the macro societal level of the woke army, smug and shaming, ready to right the universe via metaphorical stoning, shaming, humiliating and shunning the unwashed unwoke into submissive acquiescence. It is so vile, it fills me with loathing revulsion, and still stops me cold, horrified at the world today. Not to mention I am deep into permanent retreat--surrendered--retired--closed up shop--everyone can go hang.
I've been blathering just for the sake of fun and riding the tailings of the amphetamine-steam engine. The radical left's mainstreaming does make me froth at the mouth til I'm about to stroke out, but beyond that, I haven't really the foggiest about your post's discussion proposal. I am so incredibly far down the socioeconomic ladder from art
