Category Archives: Classics

The Art of Sitting in an Art Gallery (and watching lo-fi horror films)

So I’m doing a workstudy job of sitting for four hours every Tuesday in an art gallery. This is the first time I’ve ever worked in an art gallery, and lemme tell ya- for the most part, it’s pretty damn quiet. In fact, as I’m writing this blog post now, I’m sitting in the gallery. I can see straight outside all the passerby with their paper coffee cups, earphones and college t-shirts. Some of them glance at the gallery, a few stop, and most walk right by. In the two hours that I’ve been here today, ONE person has stopped in for a VERY QUICK glance at a few paintings while trying to avoid eye contact with me before rushing out again. So, for the most part, I have lots of time to do my own work, like writing spontaneous blog posts and watching lo-fi horror films on youtube.

Here’s a preview of some of the films I’ve been devouring:

“The Stuff” (1985), directed by Larry Cohen

“Plan 9 From Outer Space” (1959), directed by Ed Wood

“Robot Monster” (1953), directed by Phil Tucker

“The Horror of Party Beach: (1960s), directed by Del Tenney

Seriously, I could go on and on, but I think I’ll stop there for now. Four hours is a decent amount of time to watch this stuff.

I’ve been on a crazy old-school horror film kick for the past few months. It’s funny, because for the most part I’ve never been much of a horror fan- I was the kid who had nightmares for months in 4th grade because of the birthday slumber party that screened Ghost. I’m also the type who squiggles uncomfortably at the slightest drop of blood, and who in general is fearful of imminent death that looms pretty much everywhere. Which is perhaps why my recent interest in lo-fi, DIY horror films is more appropriate; i.e. films that are obviously fake. Fake = not real = it probably won’t ever happen. Which is more comforting than, say, current-day films about real-life serial killers and how they managed to actually slaughter real people like you and me. Thanks, but not thanks. I’ll go for the fake puppet monsters and ice cream containers that explode…

Anyway, that’s what I’m doing today in the art gallery. And just in case you were worried about the future of art in the gallery, there have been a few more people who have wandered in since I started writing this blog post. Luckily, most of them have been more interested in the art than talking to me, leaving me to bathe in my own lo-fi horror watching glory.


A humorous introduction

I thought I’d start this blog out with something light and cheerful. I can’t deny that in the long run, I’m a complete sucker for humor. Being in grad school for the past two years in ‘Studio Art’, I’ve faced constant reluctance to my role as a humorous artist. My question is: does art have to be so damn serious all the time? Yes, perhaps there are plenty of artists working with things that are “funny”, but it seems that they’re often not taken as seriously as the “serious” artists are. Conceptual and theoretical art put aside, I appreciate humor in its essence because it MAKES ME LAUGH. That, in itself, is worth a thousand words. Laughter = not suffering. Those who are suffering should laugh more. Those who aren’t suffering should laugh more. Those who are too serious about everything.. should laugh more. When I’m feeling shitty about myself and my work, I should laugh more. If you’re judging this blog post already, then you should laugh more too, dammit.

I Love Lucy is one of my favorites. Classic spoofs of ridiculousness, and yet amazingly well done by talented performers, writers and directors. Lucille Ball was a gem of female strength and awesomeness, and her “multicultural” relationship with Cuban bandleader and fellow performer Dezi Arnaz was certainly unique on the big screen for its time. While I Love Lucy was aimed at making its audience laugh, it also had plenty of references to the life realities of the time. I wish there were more shows like I Love Lucy today. It made me laugh so hard that I forgot for a second that there aren’t, at least none that I know of.