Ok, anyone with a baby knows that is NOT a baby poop. It’s not diaper molded to buttocks shaped, for one thing.
So obviously, this isn’t even trying for authenticity, but buzz.
And yes, this is indeed the same jackass who made the nekkid BritneySpears giving birth on a skin rug statue (when in fact Ms. Spears had a c-section, and the only rug present was her knappy trailer trash one which did NOT have a baby coming out of it.)
Well, I’d offer $25 if I thought I had an actual chance to resell it for $30,000, but I suspect that the gallery dierector is simply going home at night laughing at any rubes that are willing to fork out bucks to purchase (or view) it.
What it is, you see, is a meditation on the state of our modern culture. It combines our fearful lust for the things that society has told us we should hate (the poo) and the ridiculous fascination we collectively have with media and hype. No one would care about this kid’s poo if its parents weren’t famous and there weren’t 12 tabloids in the supermarket screaming about the unseen child. This piece reflects, quite literally, on the value of celebrity.
I wrote the above as a joke, but on preview it actually makes sense. The artist got me to think very seriously about modern society, so I suppose that it’s a success in that regard, no matter how disgusting it might.
It is indeed art, and despite the hundreds of thousands of unsung new artworks out there, certain artworks continue to push people’s buttons. Like yours, for example.
Why is elevating a lump of celeb-baby shit in this way not an appropriate commentary on the celeb-fixated media? How is it less absurd that seeing a picture of the cellulite on some aging starlet’s ass when you check out at the grocery store?
That artist or gallery has a great publicist, because everything he is making lately is making it into the papers.
Indeed, whenever modern art threads pop up on the board, I am invariably defending art, claiming that “no, it’s not all shit.”
I stand corrected.
If the poo is real, what in the name of holy fuck are they feeding that infant? A fisherman’s platter? Complete with clams? I’m a little un"clear" on this, Tom.
Ya gotta be shittin’ me! (Hey, somebody had to say it!) I’ve seen interviews with the artist before, and he doesn’t come across really all that bright, so I’m thinking that he’s got a very good publicist.
Heh-I’m comfortably removed from pop culture to the point that the OP made no sense at all. The title did make me think of the musical Oklahoma and a shiny little surrey with the poop on the top.
Yeah, I don’t know why, but the thing that bugs me most about this artist is that his things just simply aren’t what he says they are. That wasn’t Britney, this isn’t the poop of a newborn. I don’t know why it bugs me so much.
And I do get why it is art - celebrity worship, people talking, yadda yadda. I just needed a nice punchy line to end the OP with a pop. Not a poop.
irishgirl – having attended MilliCal’s first movement, I’d have to disagree.
Her meconium* was thick and vaseline-like. Certainly not liquid. You could’ve made a mold from it easily. Its thick waxy property and very dark, non-poop-like color inspired me to describe meconium not non-parent-types as “The Cosmolene the Human Digestive System Comes Packed In.”
*meconium is a great word, suggesting not Baby’s First Bowel Movement, but Cryptic Unknown Element. I can easily picture Dr. Zarkoff holding a vial of it and lecturing Flash Gordon: “Do you know what this is, Flash? It’s solid Meconium!”