mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

  • Mood:

copy that

Thurs: The man who gave us the Feebles is knighted in NZ and the National Gallery in the UK declares they can no longer be hoaxed by fake art (luckily for them Mr Caffrey is a fictional character, because that's really putting it out there). I loved the snipe about how anyone armed with an old banana peel can fake modern art but it takes real skill to knock off something from the 15thC. Take that, Tate! Ooo-er, handbags at dawn. Sorry, I love it when curators get bitchy.

Meanwhile, I just do not understand how a near perfect copy of an old Dutch painting can win the prize for Australian landscapes. For starters, it's a friggin' Dutch landscape. For second, it's a copy, a pastiche, it's, well, I just don't understand why this amount of slavish copying is perfectly acceptable within artistic circles when elsewhere it would be called plagerism, or, had it been a more recent painting so closely homaged (what you might call a leg humping homage) it'd be up for copyright infringement.

I'm personally against copyright laws, or extreme and draconian American style ones, anyway, and I'm all for fair use and I deeply understand and appreciate the long practice of copying and appropriating as apprenticeship, mashups, cultural comment and fashion, I do, and I support them wholeheaertedly. I'd be six types of hyprocrite if I didn't, having dabbled in a bit of the old homage and apropriation myself as part of my never ending apprenticeship.

It's just that in this instance (given the artist involved) I see no real intent on cultural comment other than shit stirring, and I cannot see, aside from the fact that the song was still in copyright, how this near photocopy has artistic merit and at the same time a riff in "Down Under" that evoked another song was considered a copyright violation, when, imho, the "Down Under" song was, consciously or otherwise, taking a part of something and fashioning something new, something that did offer cultural comment with nostalgic resonance. The painting, meanwhile, is a colour by numbers piece of crap that makes a mockery of art critics, which I suspect was the entire point (modern artists, a shallow lot, I despair).

I guess it's just one law for some, and a harsher law for others. I realise that it all comes down to the finer points of current copyright law as she is writ, but from a spectator's point of view, I cannot see the difference. In fact, my judgements would have been the complete reverse of the ones as given, but, hey, what do I know about art?

Oh, now there's an idea for a White Collar fic. How on earth can Peter try and teach his wayward boy right from wrong (Neal Caffrey: raised by wolves) when, in NYC especially, it is so clearly one law for some, another law for others. You know, like celebs getting away with stuff that'd have you or I banged up for five years. That sort of thing. Neal gets it. It'd be a cute story, with Peter trying to demonstrate his world view to Neal and then having to flip when Neal's more cynical/realistic take wins precedence. At which point I realise I end up with an episode of Leverage, so, moving on...

Anyway, whatever happened to creating art because you had to? Because it was inside you and screaming to get out? I know I'm rubbish but I have to stay up all night scribbling away, because I have to (and, man, if I thought I was doing it for fame and money I'd be sorely disappointed by now). Harumph. I miss art that used to give you clues about the artist's interested and influences (interests and influences that might lead you down paths you'd never normally take, how exciting). These days, well, beer ads have more heart, creativity, humour and artistic merit, they really do.

This, btw, is why I never get invited to the Peanut Gallery's parties. I have opinions, and they're not part of the groupthink. Tsk. Damn, because I understand they serve some mighty fine canapes at those dos.

Fri: Well, let's see, I shot off early yesterday and hit the shops and, wouldn't you know it, they were having a sale, and I managed to get quite a good discount on the two particular items I was after. I'm much happier, now. I also ran into an old aquaintance and we fell into a long chat and amongst other things they complimented me on my weight loss (not that you could tell because fat is fat but I've dropped a dress size but it's been hard work (hence the enduring grumpiness) and one of my photos ended up in an important doc at work. Horribly underexposed re crap office lighting and if I'd have known they were going to use it I would have retouched it heaps but at least it got used (I'm always taking pics and dumping them in the image library, for my own purposes as much as anything else).

Caught up on some of last week's telly last night (I was supposed to be doing stuff but the extended on a mission shopping trip plus the 1.5 hour long bus ride home wearied me to a surprising degree), well, some of it, as thanks the local channels habit of starting shows anything from 15 minutes late onwards I missed the end of Castle but it's not like I was watching it for the plot (I heart Nathan, still).

Oh yes, Bonekickers. Often referred to as one of the worst tv shows ever, so naturally when we came to it we sort of squinted and decided it wasn't quite that bad. Well, it was, but what saved it for me was Hugh Bonneville being the perfect distillation of all those grumpy, boozy old hippy archaeologists they have on Time Team. It was laugh out loud funny, but only, I suppose, if you got the joke.

Speaking of Time Team, I realise now I must have been trained by folks trained by Americans because while the English one always has me spitting and groaning over their dreadful destructive, slipshop and negligent ways, we've got the US version playing now, and, to borrow from Rose: "Finally, a professional".

Can you believe it but they don't utterly destroy a site before running off to the pub but instead sift, collate, use up to date tech and record, record and record and never toss invaluable artefacts into rubbish piles. I guess it's because the Yanks, like us, only have a couple hundred years of broken European crockery and then it's onto the indigenous stuff which one isn't supposed to ever, ever touch, so I guess more care comes into play, since there isn't much of anything to play with. But yeah, finally, someone doing it right. I couldn't believe my eyes.

Mr Bonneville is still spot on as your basic boorish British archaeologist from a red brick university, though. Oh my word, yes. Hilarious. Worth watching Bonekickers just for that, silly plots be damned (and, ironically, I had once wondered idly what would happen if you married Time Team to something a bit more fantasy orientated. Direness, apparently. Well, there goes my Supernatural meets the Antiques Roadshow pilot, then, eh?)

Hmmm, just had a sushi and bitchy bitch session. That was fun. Too bad I was in my woeful it's a rainy Friday and I don't care duds, but, oh well. And I got a pot of blueberry jam. This is an odd day. Oddly pleasing. Too bad next week, well, I'm losing sleep just thinking about it.

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Peter and Jones deal with the Benjamins.

Nice Boy of the Week: Matthew Bomer

Nice Boy of the Week: Tim DeKay


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    Sun, 14:09: RT @ aardvarsk: Same guy who wrote the song “Pure Imagination” from Willy Wonka is the same guy who wrote Nina Simone’s banger…

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    Sat, 18:27: RT @ wisetuna: 🎶 It’s Friday! “Time to straighten right out… ahhh, ahhh…” - The Specials - A Message to You, Rudy - 1979 #ska

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    Fri, 13:02: Ooh, I've this one 😍 Fri, 13:08: RT @ MarcDavenant: San Carlo Restaurant in the snow, New York in…

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