Please don't think that I'm saying that writers, musicians, photographers, and painters shouldn't be paid for what they do. On the contrary: it is of the utmost importance that a society recognize and support key sources of cultural development and respect the worth of intellectual property. But ultimately, the true value of a work of art cannot be gauged by its price. I remember walking through a thrift store, pointing out a particularly atrocious painting and remarking, "Dude, this looks like something somebody would buy in a gallery in SoHo for like $13 million." It was that bad.
But, I'm not here to hate on modern expressionism (which I'm sure I don't understand.) And granted, I don't know the first thing about fine art. But, I do know, like, up to the seventh thing about street/amateur art. Call me a hoodlum, a street rat, a diamond in the rough--if you must--but, I respect the motives behind such impermanent productions more than the meticulous precision of any well-preserved masterpiece you could find in a showroom or an exhibit. I'm a simple dude with a taste for the ephemeral. I like my art to hide in weird places, to highlight the unique, to jazz up the mundane, and to serve as a fleeting reminder that life is a wacky thing.
Today, I tip my hat to the pure-hearted artists who pick interesting mediums and don't give a damn what critics say. They are brave and innovative; they are many. Isn't it nice to know they're just like you (only cooler)?
First, a bit of clever, helpful interactive art. Think about feeling lost or disoriented. Now, think about being hustled and bustled out of a sweaty subway by a heartless mob of New Yorkers. Now, smash those two feelings together. NOW QUICK, think of seeing an awesome piece of art that tells you exactly what direction you're facing and perfectly reacclimates you to the world of London Above (and by "London" I, of course, mean "New York.") How do you feel? Probably as thankful and psyched for life as the lucky people who spy these little compass roses outside popular NYC subway stops.
That's right. Some kind kid with a can of spray paint and a soft spot for Pi has been helping direct subway-goers as they venture topside. I first heard about this from The Daily What and it seems to have become quite the big deal. The compasses all seem to be oriented correctly and are a snazzy, welcome addition to the otherwise lame sidewalks of NYC. Whoever you are, keep up the fine work.
Secondly, this adorable nonsense. I've seen it around Philly and a friend of mine has observed similar events in New York. Somebody (or something) is a master knitter and is swaddling local bikes and bike racks with custom fit sweaters. Yea, that's right. Look.
Who does that? Somebody that doesn't want those poor bicycles to freeze to death, that's who. Thanks, sir. P.S. That tree monster is the cutest yarn monster I've ever even seen.
Thirdly, children, check out these dogs. Somebody perfectly captured the "Yea, I'm gonna pee on this." attitude of a dog in paper mache and hid it in the tunnel under the Art Museum. Naturally, I slink through that tunnel whenever I can. I was so happy to find this scruffy guy and his little friend.
They're both gone now. The little one was stolen about a week after I found them and the big one disappeared soon after that. Like I said, good art doesn't stick around.
And finally, I wanted to mention this cool webcomic. This is slightly off topic and more authored than the other random pieces I've stumbled onto. But, I still feel that these guys are jotting down comic gold and sending it out into the internet for free. They seem to operate with the same open, sharing mindset. Also, the comics are hilarious. It's Left-Handed Toons. A ton of the comics make me go "YEA!" for a variety of reasons. There's even a bizarro side to the site (which you can find if you're very clever--like me.) But yea, check it out, hit random a few times. They're funny.
Ok, I drank a ton of coffee this morning and I didn't know when to stop writing. That's what that was about. Whatever, sue me. Bye, guys.
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