Art as a show


I prepared this article after reading the adventures of Jerry Saltz trying to visit Art Basel Miami at the beginning of December 1919. Any such criteria were pure coincidence or premeditated my deviance. Either of these criteria was purely coincidental or with premeditation and treachery.

In its origin’s art seems to have been linked to religious magic. Painting bison and hunters could have been a way to achieve survival success.

The lines and the skill were probably the curators who decided who in the tribe would do such a noble job.

Here in the Dominican Republic, we have pictographs not as old as those of Lascaux and Altamira, revealing notable similarities.

Since inside the caves there are no vestiges of eaters or glasses, it seems that there were no vernissages or openings or shows.

Today, however, art seems to have become an art of entertainment.

A contemporary art exhibition is a guaranteed night of a waste of luxury, fashion, beauty, social media posts, hashtags. And perfect smiles for selfies. Oh, I forgot the art!

Art hangs on walls. Sometimes at the ceiling of the mega gallery too.

Remember art fairs too. They are a temporary shelter of wonders that move millions of dollars and millionaires.

A large audience enjoys seeing, hear, touch, smell, and feel. And somebody mixed it with the best champagne, vodka, wine, beer, or rum.

The magic of yesteryear remains. But now there is much better lighting and flashes of photographers.

Much of what I see is well done, but I think it’s fast food, microwave style, executed for fun and entertainment. I also see a tremendous dimensioning and rest in high technology. That is not bad; art goes hand in hand with new inventions, but is the technology itself art? So many special effects and money to express yourself? Or to get attention?

There are too many imitations of fashion artists, which means they sell at stratospheric prices. They often look like replicas of Gerhard Richter, Pollock, Basquiat, Koons, or Hirst.

Like many artists are modeling and posing as they are both media stars and even romantic dates and leagues are with Hollywood stars, music, or sports. It shouldn’t surprise me, and they are related!

We live in the era of information and knowledge. He arrived with the 3rd wave, and we are already in the fourth. What Toffler never thought was that everything would become an Instagram post or a tweet.

We work to be able to consume information that makes us happy. Give a like makes the day more than any drug. Today’s art seems to be a social media post. If you don’t have fun or entertain, it’s not good if you don’t make us say Wow or post an Emoji.

I see too many artworks that make me say, wow. They have so much skill, so many elements that remember the horror vacui, but they don’t reach my heart; they remain in my astonished eyes.

After the impact of the caffeinated shot, my brain does not perceive more or produce that tickle of memory or my experiences that made me cry the first time I saw a landscape of Ansel Kieffer or Picasso’s Guernica. Or the emotion of letting myself going seduced by Matisse’s Fauvist harmony, Johns’ daring compositions and meta-messages, or immersion in a perhaps spiritual atmosphere of Rothko.

Apart from the amazement, much of today’s art does not cause me anything else. It is like an orgasm without significant consequences, like when someone makes love with sex professionals, in which there is no kiss or love of farewell. It seems that the only goal was an economic success, noise, ostentation, and fame, even if it only lasted fifteen minutes.

If you want to live everything I have expressed, watch a video of the last Met gala.