Last year, or the year before it, or some such time a gentleman decided that he should make a painting. There is nothing wrong with paintings in general, and even though 99% of them are shit it’s okay and perfectly acceptable to produce them, just like actual shit. This particular shit though (I should really stop this metaphor because it’ll be really confusing in a second), this guy’s art was merely an acrylic paint with some of that good old special sauce. Listed on one of those little white plaques, that I find pretentious even though they’re necessary, were the artists’ mediums: Acrylic, Semen, Blood. He was HIV positive, so I think there was some sort of message type thing behind it, which doesn’t make it any better, if your art needs to be explained then you need to quite masturbating on to canvasses, I meant that metaphorically, my usual vernacular is actually making writing about semen/blood paintings difficult, which is now making me look into who I am as a person.
Besides the Jackson Pullit, I’ve seen: menstrual painting, queef painting, a girl fingering herself with spaghetti o’s, a guy who did paintings made of his blood, and paintings of minstrel show black people with diamond grills. I know the last one doesn’t have bodily fluids but it was hilarious and if someone is going to put a grill on the black maid from Tom and Jerry you better believe I’m going to write about it. All this secretion art made me think about my career path. I was going to do something vaguely liberal artsy, something they’d mention in a Michelle Williams movie, like an editor of a magazine about japanese dramedies or the author of a cook book on variations of vegan hotdogs (working title: Links of Compassion). All those things take effort and the medium of meat free dogs is pretty limited. I’m also pretty sure that there are more actors pretending to have these occupations then there are people who do the jobs.
So what do semen, menstruation, queefs, and blood have to do with my life decisions, besides the events that occurred last? I’ve decided that instead of trying at things, I’m just going to come up with concepts for shock art and ‘get dat paper’. Since I can’t queef or menstruate and I don’t have HIV it only leaves me a couple of options.
My original goal was simple but idealistic. I hoped to acquire as many Highlights magazines as possible. After I obtained the nostalgia reaping pages of doctor’s office filler, I would set them out neatly on the bathroom floor, being careful not to rip or cause a crease, then just piss and shit all over them. Now I know you’re sitting there going “that’s not art it’s just shock”. To that I say “blah blah juxtapose blah childhood blah the inevitability of death, but only if I get a frame. Frames are what make things into art, if I excreted on a magazine and just left it on a coffee table people would think I’m insane. Now if I threw some ikea on that bitch and hung it up in Soho it’d be money time. I could finally by the white tiger and fur ensemble that Puff Daddy Diddy Honeycombs wore in the Hate Me Now video.
Knowing you guys, or rather the generalization that I make about anyone that gets this far into an article, you’re going to try this and get my money. Well you can’t just shit and call it art. You have to be able to shit from the mouth too (inversely I’m pretty sure that eating your own shit is art). You have to be able to explain why there is piss and shit and various other unmentionable body leaks. The easy route is the activist route: semen guy, menstruation girl. A bit harder is the metal way (stencil guy) and the most difficult to pull off is the “this person is fucking insane but I feel like this is art”, this is when you generally have no desire to hold back anything and you don’t really care about society. Spaghetti O girl did it for the love of putting low quality canned goods in her beaver while 60 people watched and one person filmed. That’s the kind of art I’m trying to do. So when someone asks me the meaning behind my work I’m just going to hand him or her a Tom Clancy book. I’ll say that TC, Foghat and Speedy Gonzalez are my inspirations. They’ll have no idea if I’m a genius or completely insane.
You are probably wondering why none of my work is currently chilling at the MOMA. Two reasons: I don’t follow through with things and I can’t find the last ingredients. I tried posting for them on Craigslist, I tried twitter and Facebook and no one will answer my call for the last addition to the post-post modern work of Highlighted Gold.
I’d really appreciate it if some one could find me a mason jar of female ejaculate, cervical fluids, and possibly a tidbit of aunt flows left overs.
Actually, if you can just “find” that somewhere you are not the kind of person I want to know. So let me rephrase my request. If someone could make me a mason jar of female ejaculate, cervical fluids, and a bit of menstrual blood that’d be great. We could call it a collab and get at least 5k in Chelsea.
– Cameron Patton