1/10
Sometimes When the Wrappings Fall There's Nothing Underneath at All
3 November 2013
Jean Cocteau once said that until film was as cheap as a pad of artist's paper, then it could not be art. In the late 1950s, the cost of hand-held cameras had dropped enough to make them affordable to a middle class willing to take home movies. So the chance arose for real artists to make films, not phony artists like those who made commercial films meant to be seen by Joe and Jane Q. Public.

On the now increasingly rare occasion when I go to a gallery and am asked if I appreciate what is on view, I do not express my opinion of how much of a poseur and a huckster the artist seems to be, but discuss technical issues or offer a brief "Not to my taste." When it is the latter, I often hear the haughty "Well, maybe it wasn't intended for you." Again, when I hear that I refrain from saying "Who was it intended for? Some one with a lot of money who can be flattered into thinking that he's a superior individual because he buys this stuff?"

As some one who has worked on being a writer for many years, I am aware that an audience must put in a lot of work, but it is the job of the artist to meet them at least halfway. Therefore, I wish to be clear in my appraisal of this work of art.

Ken Jacobs' early collection of random, bizarre, boring images is intended to Kuleshov Effect hapless people with too much time on their hands into thinking there is something deep going on. It is an example of someone who calls himself an artist putting all the burden on an audience and expecting to be applauded for his lack of effort. It is an artifact of narcissism masquerading as art. It is not even worth looking at to make fun of, like Edward D. Wood. It is complete and utter crap.
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