@diva_groyper
artcritically
You know the Westside is actually nice right?
They don’t leave beers in ice buckets. Dry shampooed individuals are not pouring into the foyer to get a half look at projector paintings. Modelo is not a luxury product. The AI generated press releases are not on the floor and not everyone smells like cheap cigarettes or even cheaper vape. You are a stream.
A girl puts her head on the table at the bar. I’m making her boyfriend laugh at things he shouldn’t. I tell her how its 15 degrees cooler there. People stop when you jay walk. There’s an ocean. A beautiful woman waves at you from an SUV. Assuming you don’t have visible tattoos of course. A handsome man holds the door for you. Boyfriends that live on the Westside pick up the tab for your friends’ friends. They read the press release. Even if they don’t really know what’s going on where you drag them. They engage in dialectics when they don’t agree with the artist. They ask questions, raise points, make eye contact. Shake your hand when you are looking at the same work. They seek out the artist to say congratulations. Offer them a social curtesy. Not a half-conscious nod along to the description sepal given by an artist who is being emotionally manipulated by their gallerist. They dress up. They own ironed and clean shirts. She makes her boyfriend leave. I watch him go. Sad that he will be trapped here for the rest of the summer. While I become even more bronzed and beautiful showing up at opening of opening to talk to the friends of the arts.
Gjusta is so good, thick and creamy hollandaise sauce, deli ticket system, outdoor seating where everything is spaced out enough to have private conversation, but close enough to pry. Some of you need to see the beach.
When you are on the Westside the white walls are somehow cleaner. There are people serving beers from local breweries. They want to tell you about it. They serve you with a smile. You tip with pleasure. They refill your wine glasses a little more and give you a wink. The sunset isn’t smudged and their teeth are pearly. The people go on fishing trips, they tell you about how their parents are learning to spend more time outside as they get closer to retirement. They know camping spots up North. They have meaningful relationships with those around them and it shows. Because they show up. And they interpret the work differently because of it.
Many of us don’t get to have this experience. It’s a shame really. You know you can go there. Its waiting for you. I saw a man in his thirties drinking a Mike’s Extra Hard hard lemonade at a closing party recently. Well that’s really not what you should be drinking is it. The only excuse would be if he had a younger girlfriend, but you would never believe it. No girl. Sad really. Guess what part of town it was in?
Blueberry cream. Maybe its blue-razz berry? Electric! A constellation on the vape that’s so astrological. I love astrology readings. I’m a Gemini. Find me on Stars Align.
Find me at the galleries that ‘aren’t worth going to’ because ‘removed from who you are, your engagement with the art world is incoherent.’ Sorry I like to party.
Proof of Concept by Jon Rafman at Sprüth Magers
Draw the Line by Yoshitomo Nara at Blum Gallery
Paranoid Style, group show at Josh Lilley
Boulders, group show at Arcane Space
Animal Hospital at University Art Gallery Anastasia Denos
This Grass is Green Samala Mesa at Side Car
Circle Bridge Bennett Koziak at The Village
God person 93 Parker Edo and Dog Person 93 at Temple Project
Sorry I’m willing to join the war on the side of the war. That when your skin becomes tight from sweating in your AC free studio and you wear the dress shirt you leave in your car to look presentable to your epistemic peers. I notice. I smell the desperation for group think.
It seems unfair for such a chilling effect to take place. You know you can do whatever you want right?
kisses
