This kind of reminds me of this Chuck Palahniuk book I'm reading right now called Diary. He shines a light on "modern artists" as he sees it...
"This girl, her latest "work" was stuffing a teddy bear with dog shit. She worked with her hands inside blue rubber gloves so thick she could almost not bend her fingers. According to he, beauty was a stale concept. Superficial. A cheat. She was working a new vein. A new twist on a classic Dada theme. In her studio, she had the teddy bear already gutted out, its fake fur spread open autopsy-style, ready to turn into art. Her rubber gloves smeared with brown stink, she could hardly hold the needle and red suture thread. Her title for all this was: Illusions of Childhood."
"Another boy in Misty's class, he was masturbating, trying to fill a piggy bank with sperm before the end of the year. He lived off dividends from a trust fund. Another girl drank different colors of egg temperas, then drank syrup of ipecac that made her vomit her masterpiece. She drove to class on a moped from Italy that cost more than the trailer where Misty grew up."
Although these examples are fictional, I imagine they aren't too far off. The fact that the artist wasn't able to understand or explain their own art doesn't surprise me at all. I think it is a form of shock therapy not only for others, but for the artist as well. Maybe to see if they do it, someone will tell them why they did it?
This kind of reminds me of
This kind of reminds me of this Chuck Palahniuk book I'm reading right now called Diary. He shines a light on "modern artists" as he sees it...
"This girl, her latest "work" was stuffing a teddy bear with dog shit. She worked with her hands inside blue rubber gloves so thick she could almost not bend her fingers. According to he, beauty was a stale concept. Superficial. A cheat. She was working a new vein. A new twist on a classic Dada theme. In her studio, she had the teddy bear already gutted out, its fake fur spread open autopsy-style, ready to turn into art. Her rubber gloves smeared with brown stink, she could hardly hold the needle and red suture thread. Her title for all this was: Illusions of Childhood."
"Another boy in Misty's class, he was masturbating, trying to fill a piggy bank with sperm before the end of the year. He lived off dividends from a trust fund. Another girl drank different colors of egg temperas, then drank syrup of ipecac that made her vomit her masterpiece. She drove to class on a moped from Italy that cost more than the trailer where Misty grew up."
Although these examples are fictional, I imagine they aren't too far off. The fact that the artist wasn't able to understand or explain their own art doesn't surprise me at all. I think it is a form of shock therapy not only for others, but for the artist as well. Maybe to see if they do it, someone will tell them why they did it?