In the course of searching for forbears, robotklawotski and microkill2 found jindřich štýrský perched on a rock near a dwindeling river.
We wet our clothes and walk the lavaplains; we are survivalists!
A movement Artificialism: Jindřich Štyrský and Toyen had their own movement. This was in 1927-1928.
An excerpt: An artificial painting is not bound to reality in time, place and space, and for that reason it does not provide associative ideas. Reality and forms of the painting repulse each other. The greater the distance between them, the more visually dramatic is the emotiveness, giving birth to analogies of emotions, their connected rippling, echoes all the more distant and complex, so that at the moment of confrontation between reality and image, both feel entirely alien in relation to each other.
We love this shit! Its total nonsensical, looks almost scientific, scholarly; it is the same as the crap academics nowadays churn out. Whole galeries and musea have been infected by this nonsense, zillions of artists, who don't know shit about art, can recite this crap as if it were poetry.
We wet our clothes and walk the lavaplains; we are survivalists!
A movement Artificialism: Jindřich Štyrský and Toyen had their own movement. This was in 1927-1928.
An excerpt: An artificial painting is not bound to reality in time, place and space, and for that reason it does not provide associative ideas. Reality and forms of the painting repulse each other. The greater the distance between them, the more visually dramatic is the emotiveness, giving birth to analogies of emotions, their connected rippling, echoes all the more distant and complex, so that at the moment of confrontation between reality and image, both feel entirely alien in relation to each other.
We love this shit! Its total nonsensical, looks almost scientific, scholarly; it is the same as the crap academics nowadays churn out. Whole galeries and musea have been infected by this nonsense, zillions of artists, who don't know shit about art, can recite this crap as if it were poetry.
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| respect: jindřich štýrský |
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