Time Enough At Last
But if you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao, you ain’t going to make it with anyone anyhow:
We are witnessing a globalized political whitewash job, with artists and assorted collectors, dealers, and sycophants pouring a thick layer of avant-garde double-talk over the infernal decade of suffering, destruction, and death that Mao unleashed on his country in 1966. And as we are also dealing with the house of mirrors that is the art world, I have no doubt that somebody is ready to explain that I am confusing appropriation with approbation or that fascism is just another way of spelling freedom.
(via 3QD)
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Better, a roundup of art reflecting desolation, worlds without people and post-apocalyptic cityscapes:
This new ruin romanticism is especially evident in the Flooded London imagery, rendered up by Squint/Opera (the firm behind the visualisations for the 2012 Olympic Stadium, via Archinect – what could be the emotional motivation behind their fascination with rendered ruins?). The imagined ruin has always existed – they have been a staple artistic subject for centuries. Only the focus used to be on abandoned civilizations, the perceived hubris of the ancients. In contrast, the virtual ruination of the modern era is self-imposed schadenfreude, with all the damage and joy turned inwards. It is a feeling made universal by the internet, where planning catastrophes and architectural missteps are all lovingly chronicled and catalogued.
When I Am Legend came out, New York was briefly plastered with posters of Will Smith and his dog, walking briskly down a completely empty city street. Commuters gazed upon the posters with wistful sighs.
Last night, the boy next door who’s been learning guitar, held a little concert just outside my window. He went through the entire White Album, and his group of friends was very encouraging of his efforts. If I woke up tomorrow and found myself the last human on Earth, I think I’d be alright with it. (And I wear contact lenses, so.)
