>From the lack of breathing on this list one would think that aesthetics is a 
dead idea.  But I think not.  Aesthetics has just slipped from object to 
artist. 
It's not an idea anymore but someone.  Don't you wish you were that someone?

 The art world, deeply immersed in oily decadence is due for a frantic swim to 
cleaner waters.  The nadir of contemporary art is not marked by the banality of 
particular artworks but by the eagerness of artists to embrace the strategies 
of 
mass marketing that define popular taste.  One of the most heavily used 
strategies is to link the ordinariness of an idea or product with the rarity of 
celebrity.  By doing so the ordinary actually acquires the unique effulgence of 
celebrity and its presumed magic, rivaling the transubstantiation of the host 
into the body and blood of Jesus Christ.   Nothing new in that, certainly, and 
it's the staple of mass selling since the earliest days of Wheaties and and 
Ivory Soap.  

You have noticed how the beautiful actress on TV sells her new perfume 
(remember, it's polluted water) by holding the little bottle with the tips of 
her fingers right next to her cheek.  So it has finally come to art, now naked 
and unlovely in its new identity as the "everyday" and "commonplace" as 
explained by steeply aging art critics who will not need to witness the future 
they define.  Art may indeed be the everyday and indistinguishable from the the 
glut of material banality but, ah, those artists, and oh, that wonderful 
delight 
of their celebrity, fame, genius, fashioned instantly, seemingly from nothing, 
by the metamorphic magic of electronic media and behind-the curtain 
manipulations and money, money, money, that's the thing. 

So we have Bravo, the Next Great Artist ready to concoct another winning TV 
season.  Similar forms of art as mass entertainment/celebrity made to the 
reality show template, are being pitched even as I write this on an early 
Saturday morn.  The artwork now is incidental, like the little pile left on the 
sidewalk by your odd breed doggie (with Yale or Columbia MFA) and of course the 
doggie's the prize, not the pile. 

Some people have discovered the depressing fact that not only are artworks like 
doggie piles but the artists, too, very often look and act like doggies.  They 
are ill bred, uncombed, bad mannered and poorly trained.  They need to be 
transformed into slick celebrities.  Here is a whole new business for failed 
art 
dealers and plaid-jacketed sales-promotion folks and smart MFA theorists who 
have run out of metaphors.  They are conducting seminars and courses designed 
to 
turn shy, introspective, marginalized artists into the sort of people who can 
hawk wares like a door-to-door Fuller Brush man and be mistaken for a movie or 
rock-band mega-star. Hey, if you can't make art, be an artist! 

 Be a business-artist, be "Professional", be sucked down the drain of mass 
marketing.  Never mind the old-timey moralists.  Align yourself to the 
entertainment game world.  Forget about that hard stuff, aesthetics, ideas, 
content, meaning.  Focus on the commercial.  (Who hasn't noticed how TV is just 
one long commercial after another with boring pauses for the so-called 
program?) 
 So it has also become for art.  Art is just the boring pause between episodes 
of entertaining, charismatic, celebrity artists.  Aesthetics?   Who is 
Aesthetics? Is she here tonight?  Is Mr. Aesthetics with her?  Wow.

wc

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