Archive for August, 2009

Collection

August 26, 2009

There is a funny parody; #mce_temp_url# that somebody sent me about  a show at the Asian Art Museum in san francisco.

The artist casts kind of a wide net, maybe too wide, but anyhow it got me thinking about that museum.

It just seems like a lot of  rich people like ” collecting”.

Collecting money, objects, people.

And then hoarding, protecting, and preserving.

In fact i wonder if the same people who maintain the collections also maintain the museum owners.

I find the rich people who own and stock these places to have the kind of perfect

skin that comes from frequent polishing and waxing.

You can never tell how old they are.

There are  kept in a climate controlled environment.

Nothing gritty, stressful. or too real is allowed to get near these folks.

And they have a whole culture around their toy collection.

There’s  a  caste system with directors, docents, boards, all the way down to the volunteers , security guards, and janitors.

They get to stage lots of “events” in an attempt to enhance their social status.

So they spend a lifetime collecting these fetish objects, then ” bequeath” them to

the public by creating a huge building and  ” foundation”  ( tax write off ) with their name on it.

I’m sure they are torn between clutching their treasures and letting the grubby

plebes near them.

But if you cant show them off, then who will envy you?

I’ve always been  slightly uneasy about the orientalism fetish there.

If you close your eyes, you can still  get a faint whiff of pith helmets.

Collecting art  is collecting culture is collecting a people.

To boil it down, the Asian Art Museum is about white people collecting asian people.

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Bush Car – My Funky Hood #11

August 8, 2009

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Was walking  down the street one day and noticed  that a bush had been trimmed into the shape of a car.

Further inspection showed that car parts had been integrated into the bush.

The artist came  home while i was pondering  the bush.

He was from hong kong and didn’t speak a word of english.

He was string thin and  dressed in a suit and tie that was ancient and rumpled.

As was he.

I’d guess his age as around eighty, maybe even  more.

He gave me a  wave with his nicotine stained hand, and went inside.

That was a while ago.

I just finally got around to going back with my phone to take  these photos,

and found it kind of forlorn looking.

For instance, there are some headlights that are not visible here due to overgrowth.

I hope he’s ok.

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