Who is the decider?

Who is the decider?

I don’t get most art. Every time I go the gallery I realize that I completely lack any understanding of art, and this feeling is compounded when I read the little blurbs explaining the “true” meaning of a painting or a sculpture. I always wonder who decides what’s art and what is just an accidental paint spill. During my latest visit to the Nelson-Atkins I observed what looked like a metal gate with about five hundred dollars worth of tools welded to it. Art? It must be! That reminded me how at my first job I got an unsupervised access to a welding machine and a bunch of scrap metal. So myself and another schmuck welded a whole bunch of things together. Was it art? My supervisor didn’t think so and I couldn’t tell because my eyes were red and swollen shut from welding without a mask. All I am saying is I think that sometimes artists produce a pile of junk and no one has the balls to call it that. How are this painting different from the one drawn by an elephant at the Ringling circus? A small dark square on the white board, I am sure it signifies race issues in America. As for the last piece it’s just a pile of junk yard scrap. I hope the museum didn’t pay too much for this “sculpture”.

And that’s my five rubles about art.
P.S. I wonder what are healthy-looking men doing working as ushers in the gallery during normal work hours. Aren’t they supposed to be doing some “manly” work somewhere? Maybe this job is secretly pays unbelievably high wages?

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