teenage wasteland

i’m not that knowledgeable about art. i mean, i know what i like, what’s aesthetically pleasing to me, but the openings i attend are few and far between and usually depend on how much free wine is being served. you’ll never find me standing in front of a piece, stroking my chin, and making grandiose statements.

don’t get me wrong, i DO enjoy art. but i have this problem. i want to TOUCH IT. especially oil paintings, where the brushstrokes are thick and gloppy and tactile. i want to run my fingers over them, feel their ridges, and think about the person who held the brush, if he or she felt the same way. i want to wrap my hand around a piece of sculpture, and squeeze it. see how cold or hot it is. how smooth or rough.

this, of course, is Not Allowed and many times i have been told to “step back, miss.” plus, we all know what happens to people who Touch The Art.

i guess this why i want to own artwork – so i can touch it as much (or as little) as i’d like.

one of my favorite artists is banks violette. i love his whole deal: the look, the attitude, the subject matter, the themes, the titles. i don’t want to say how it makes me feel, because that’s none of your business. but i really want to touch it:

ZODIAC (F.T.U.)/74 ironhead SXL, 2008-9

it makes me sad:

ghost and elyse marie pahler, from arroyo grande 7.22.95

it makes me scared:

untitled, 2005

it reminds me of being a teenager.

not yet titled (bergen chair), 2009

hate them, 2004

images via smashing magazine, art observed (zodiac), artnet (untitled 2005), team gallery (arroyo grande 7.22.95), todayandtomorrow (not yet titled bergen chair), the saatchi gallery (hate them)

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