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Sunday, January 20, 2008

Crap Art

Crap Art is a new art movement. We're still working out our manifesto, but here are a few of our principles:

1. The practice of art should be primarily explorative, and the creation of art should be discovery rather than invention.

2. Popularly held views about what constitutes art, or what constitutes artistic talent, are elitist and discourage other forms of art and artistic talent from being explored or utilized.

3. The creation of art is more important than its consumption. Therefore, aesthetics (except in the biased eye/ear of the creator) are overrated as a judgment of the worth of art.

4. That which is created rapidly and in high quantities contains more variety and is more likely to be successful/innovative. Applying the 80%/20% "rule": If only 20% of the effort is needed to get 80% of the quality, then spending by spending only 20% of the effort, we can create five times as many artifacts at 80% quality!


dweller: I can totally relate to this concept.
I am a crap artist myself and have been ever since a
wee child. Spontaneous instant creation. Hard and fast.
Thats how we likes it.

sketched by dweller at 8:47 pm
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Street Sounds
I hear those drunk boymen
whistle their bath stains
along by the taxi arcade
crew mouth and the Cabbage Hall
at red light ticking over.
I lie awake as left to right
traffic passes
Drunk boys help me sleep
Heavy goods and bus brakes
Keep me up.

Human expression no matter how
wild is a comfort to me
up here safe on high.
The moving of traffic is like a
threat, a commentary, a judgement.
They stake their noisy claim that this
is a place for movement, not for rest,
not even drunken shouting at the kebab shop.
Not for church bells on wednesday night.
Not for Islington in Bloom.
The relentless filthy draughts that sweep over the
carefully laid hanging baskets of flowers
soon leave them dead and sooted.

No the traffic is telling me I am
in the wrong place. It doesn't want me
to lie in my bed feeling the magical
stillness of the night that all my
ancestors did.
No the traffic has greater rights than
me in this location.
If one of my flatmate's push-up bra
inserts blew out of the window and landed
on a windshield causing a car to
knock down a pedestrian.
Then that would be a gift.
For the police tape would halt those beasts
for a while.

I long for peaceful nights.
They are sacred now to me.
I once took them for granted.
Now a holiday means rest from
noise as well as work.
This can't go on.

sketched by dweller at 4:53 pm
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Tuesday, January 08, 2008

the climax (more triplets)
Again we tread the boreds.
fellow ship of the wholly toast.
Cram merry juice and swallow it down.

The deep black hollow
my anchor and chain
don't feel the pull from above

glass is opaque
major flaws
never never land

gangrene elbow
youngsters old stony
beeblebrox smile

hermit's chancer
gets fed and the dog
lucky devil

my neck up to it in again
dirty turd pipe cleaners
lemon zest rubber gloves

gunk tallow lit
oven ship ahoy
slab murder toad

ghostie laddie
crispy nightie
flithy drinkie

plates and scones
zebra kojak
armpit lane

deirdre's divorce
ken's makeup secret
ginger cat sleeps

bye hallo
forced to by beatles
onion breath in work van

skin diseases
nurse's hand squeezes
tramp's delight

perfume seller
gorgeous frog
I'm one of you too

goodnight matrix
bourne again
mornings of the lord

dew drops
scally slippers
donkey dipper

fudge it up
nag it dead
right old state

you need glassed
hemlock got her in
raised profiles

skibbly dibbly dob
the mouse is chop chop chop
all the way home....

sketched by dweller at 12:04 am
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