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| Howl Again! by Charlie Finch |
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| I saw the best minds
of this art generation rush like lemmings towards a naval formation on a boat, the Intrepid, which had killed millions of Vietnamese: Beecroft's minions brag about it in the press release. You should be ashamed of yourselves -- Calvin Tomkins, Robert Storr, Robert Rosenblum, Betsy Baker, Ronald Jones, Will Cotton -- abetting the military culture that extinguishes freedom; but I was there, too, I'm just as guilty as you! Beecroft in her aquamarine dress, smoothly talking to the press -- in my opinion, just like Leni Riefenstahl, where art is just the handmaiden to power. There is no irony here -- And Deitch doing anything for the show, putting up signs forbidding this and that; "no unauthorized cameras; your presence here gives us irrevocable permission to use your image; turn off your cellphones, please" Please, my ass, Jeffrey Deitch, go shit in your hat -- Ooh, there were dozens of uniforms -- maybe there were even people in them, if the military culture didn't suck out all their freedoms in order to defend them! Even the security guards were emboldened. But shame on the Public Art Fund, and the Whitney for formally interlocking with the Pentagon -- don't they know that we still have civilian rule in America, or is every country in art land Austria? Where is the sense of loss, the humility of Maya Lin's Vietnam monument? It is not here, in Beecroft's wham bam four star blowjob. As Picasso genuflected to the commies, or Ezra Pound broadcast his hateful screeds, so Beecroft thinks her genius justifies her slavish craving for order -- What a joke, and it's on you and me, artvölk.
CHARLIE FINCH is co-author of Most Art Sucks, Five Years of Coagula (1998). |
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