Tag: wannabes

Life Imitates Art as Art Imitates Life part 2: Mr. Brainwash, Banksy, and Authentic Art

For those of you just tuning in this is part two of a piece I’m writing expressing my feelings on the subject of Actual Artist with Original ideas/concepts versus Greedy Talentless Lame Copy Cat Hacks. It goes without saying that wherever their is a Successful Artist with Original Ideas and Creative Concepts there will be a small army of wannabe’s and knock off’s trying to make money from SOMEONE ELSES Intellectual Property.

I have nothing but respect for Original Artists, and Their work even if I personally don’t like it. I believe in giving credit whenever and wherever its due.

Now for the talentless twats that swarm around Original Artists leeching off Their Creativity by either riding on their coat tails, jumping on the TREND(Y) Bandwagon or most of all their trying to Capitalize in any way they can out/off of it. They’re either trying to emulate and imitate the original idea and Art. Either that or Their trying Steal it some how for personal profit in a Pompously Presumptuous Gallery (to a bunch of Wealthy Elite Art Collecting ASSHOLES) or hawk it Online like some sort of Digital Asshole.

My point/argument continues here after stating in the prior post that Tesla was a Lone Genius, and Edison was a Con artist who got famous of his employee’s ideas/inventions. That was the History Portion, And now for the repeating part.

(Just a reminder I am recounting/retelling a EXTREMELY CONDENSED VERSION to save time by sticking as close as I can to my point. I fully encourage Reader’s to watch the Documentary Film “Exist Through The Gift Shop” which provides an in-depth and detailed look at all of the information on the subject of the personal history between Mr. Brainwash and Banksy. I would also at this time like to also recommend the Documentary “Banksy Does New York” for a most informative look into His Work and Personal Philosophies) Bottomline I’m not a Biographer.

Its truly have to give an immense deal of credit to Banksy who got his start on the Street of London, who’s work now has appeared on the streets of various countries around the globe, who’s work has been hang shied by Wealthy Gallery Owners and the like, and the Unscrupulous acquisitions of pieces of Banksy’s Artwork stolen strait off of the streets themselves, has had his work Valued from Hundreds of Thousands to a Million Plus, and yet no one knows anything personal details about Him. Banksy has become notorious for vehemently protecting his true Identity and to His credit its worked amazingly, in fact its worked perfectly. This is all anyone knows of Banksy in the Public Forum that He is Male, White, From England, and is the biggest name in Street Art/ Graffiti the world has know at this point.

Yet the popular misconception is because Banksy’s art sells for such massive amounts of money that he is insanely rich and has tons of cash coming in on a daily basis. A few reason for this are He has to compensate  His Team comprised only of the most trusted inner circle, Pay out a exorbitant amount of money in the quest to stay Anonymous, Travel, Supplies, He donates a good bit of money from selling some of his work to Charities (such as House The Homeless in NYC for example), and the simple fact that His work that is stolen off the Streets, and sold in High End Art Galleries which Banksy has absolutely nothing to do with thus he doesn’t make a dime. Banksy has stated his Art is for Everyone to enjoy and harshly condemned those who seek to confiscate his work and sell it in a high end gallery for personal profit. In fact Banksy shuns the Classic Art world for being more about being pretentious than about the actual Art.

Now while like Tesla(who had several assistants through out his career) Banksy has come to rely on the help of a few other people to help achieve his Artistic Goals/Ideas/Artistic Concepts are Banksy’s and Banksy’s alone. Point being Banksy’s crew work WITH HIM, NOT FOR HIM.

Bansky is known for the Social/Politically driven Art Work that provokes deeper thought when it comes to social ills or political plight. His work can be ironic, mocking, Anti-Authoritarian, but its all meant to promote understanding and peace among all of Humanity. His unofficial mascot seems to be the Rat which reappears frequently in Banksy’s Art. Later on in his career Banksy started to produce Art Installations (such as a blissful paradise housed in a dirty beat up Box Truck that drives around stopping periodically, and Video Pieces. Banksy has embraced Social Media/ Internet where he has a very forward, direct, and honest website (Bnaksy also has a Instagram and Twitter accounts.  Banksy is not just Original he’s insanely intelligent, beyond talented, Humble, Secretive, and Though Provoking Artist.

Meanwhile as far as Mr. Brainwash is concerned…….

I guess for sake of argument I’ll start at the beginning. Before He became Mr. Brainwash He was a regular guy named Thierry (Pronounced Terry) Guetta who had a serious camera OBC. Simply Thierry’s Mother died when he was 7, and this dramatic tragedy created Thierry’s life long obsession of Video Taping every single waking moment.

Thierry’s cousin was an up and coming Graffiti Artist in the Blossoming new world of Street Art who goes by Space Invader. Thierry started to follow and film Space Invader everywhere documenting his work along the way. Thierry ended up utterly in love with the up and coming graffiti Artists, and started following, assisting, and Filming them constantly.

In a once in a life time chance ( I mean its like winning the Lottery and then being struck by lighting.) Thierry’s cousin was hosting non other than the infamous Banksy who had already made a name for Himself. Thierry was allowed into Banksy’s inner circle even visiting the Illusive Artists Studio (Banksy’s Team found it odd and were very weary of Theirry). Thierry started going out at night with Banksy acting as a look out or extra pair of hands as Banksy put up new work.

A little later on the various Graffiti Artist drew Thierry’s non stop filming of them and their activities into question. The question was why the fuck was Thierry filming Them in the first place? Thierry had had NO PLAN for the endless hours of footage he had shot, and currently was shooting. So being rather put on the spot Thierry announced He was filming because he was making a Documentary on The Various Artists, and the birth of the Street Art fascination that was inadvertently legitimizing Graffiti as in fact Art.

Now thats all good and fine its what ended up happening next that pisses me off.

Banksy finally called Thierry out, and told him now was the time to release His Documentay because it was the essential backstory to the newly dubbed Street Art World. Thierry went to work sifting through countless bins of material as he worked feverishly to complete his so called Documentary. The Documentary was anything but. It was 90 minutes of seizure inducing, eye bleeding bullshit. It was just random images thrown together in a Manic Manner so it appeared like a 90 minute music video that escaped from MTV in the 1980’s and went absolutely insane.

Seeing the Documentary was a complete and utter failure Banksy formulated a plan to salvage the project. As Theirry idolized Banksy to the umpteenth degree Banksy got Thierry to let him borrow all of his footage. Banksy then recommended that Thierry head home, create some Art, and perhaps have a little show. Thierry took this to heart as an official mission assigned Him personally by His Idol Banksy.

Now while wasting time, content, and miles of Video Tape is a real shitty thing, and fucking up a project happens so while I’m pissed at this point in the story, the following part is what truly Enrages Me to NO END.

Thierry went home and the first fucking thing he does is rent a MASSIVE 5 story fucking warehouse for his upcoming show. Then Thierry (who accept for a few sporadic pieces (a picture of Him holding a camera) had never been an actual Graffiti Artist. Thierry then hires a legion of Millennial Graphic Artists to crank out REALLY CLICHE CRAP thats BLATANTLY a LAME attempt to IMITATE Banksy. Thierry has NO ACTUAL ARTISTIC CREATIVITY, TALENT OR SKILL.

Then Thierry gave him self the Moniker of Mr. Brainwash, and started to promote Himself and His upcoming show as if He was a legitimate long time, well know, and respected Graffiti Artist who was friends with all the Other now Big Name Graffiti Artists, and that He had the distinct honor in personally knowing Banksy. He used Banksy and Other Big Artists  to shamelessly Self Promote Himself FALSELY.

At this point Graffiti had been rebranded as Street Art as it had become popular in the Allegedly Fine Art World. And because of its new found trendiness provided the key to Thierry’s unwarranted success. Every Hipster, Trend Chaser, Pretentious Assholes, Fine Art Dealer, and Exclusive Art Gallery Owner wanted a piece of the Street Art Pie because by now Banksy Works had sold for up to and over a million dollars (which only serves to encourage unscrupulous Thieves) BOTTOM LINE Every Sucker and Presumptuous Asshole bought Thierry’s bullshit credentials and so called Street Credit hook, line, and fucking sinker.

In the end Thierry filled the gigantic rented warehouse with tons of Pathetic Graffiti Knock Off Bullshit Pieces conceived and done by one of his HIRED underlings, and presented them all as His own. Thierry fit right into the fake ass kissing world of Fine Art, Thierry could bullshit his ass off as Elitist Idiots ate it up ravenously like rabid Lemmings.

 

THE POINT OF THIS 2 PART POST is as follows.

There Unintelligent and Untalented ASSHOLES like Thomas Edison and Thierry aka Mr. Brainwash in the World that like so many other Con Artists STEAL other’s Intellectual Property, and then have the balls to claim it as Their own. THAT IS HORSE SHIT. Those people are fucking bottom dwelling leeches that act like Brainless Parasites feeding off Other’s Originality for their own fame/fortune.

Fuck Trends, Fuck Hipsters, Fuck Art Thieves, Fuck High End Art Galleries, Fuck Fine Art Dealers, Fuck Fakes, Fuck Wannabes, Fuck Mr. Brainwash, Fuck Edison, Fuck Scam Artists, Fuck Con Men, Fuck Unoriginality, Fuck Cliches, and Fuck the Fine Art Assholes.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

The Bastard Brothers of BarFly

Back in the day when I was a real son-of-a-bitch I had the great displeasure of knowing The Bastard Brothers of Barfly for a few miserable months. First off BarFly barely constitutes a town out in “the boonies” of TCM. BarFly is such a tiny,tiny bankrupt micro town its not even a small dot on the map, and  the people’s  families/friends of BarFly residents received enthusiastic emails when the town got a 2nd traffic light for Christ’s sake. As you can imagine there isn’t diddly shit for the youth of BarFly to do but drink, fuck, vandalize, smoke weed, loiter and drive around the rural landscape of nothingness that is BarFly.

The Bastard Brothers are a classic example of the youth of BarFly, but I’m sure by now BarFly has developed or died providing a much more active environment. The older brother was named Bell-End who was the most transparently fake as fuck person I have ever run across in my chaotic travels.

This story unfolds in a time before smart phones and social media when Headbangers still existed in diminishing tribes but where a dying breed since Seattle ejaculated Grunge music and flannel in the face of America. Now Bell-End was a wannabe metalhead he had the long hair, played guitar, smoke’n drank, wore jeans with torn knees, and a lame denim vest (a jacket he had cut the sleeves off of, he missed the memo stating sleeve removing is for t-shirts not jackets the moron) covered with band patches (such as Metallica, Motorhead, Anthrax etc.) ultimately he was a shitty sheep in metal clothing. Not only that but he has a condescending, egotistical, snide “I’m gods gift to the fucking world” smarter than all attitude ,but in reality he was just a lame legend in his own minuscule mind.

His younger brother Dingus was not any better then his big brother accept he was a scumbag of a different shitty color. Dingus has short man’s insecurities all Napoleon complex and shit because the guy is 5 foot nothing. Dingus dropped out of high school in the 10th grade to hangout 24/7 attached at the hip with a scummy emo goth chick named Slutica When I say attached at the hip I mean it in the most extreme stereotypical manner, you NEVER saw one without the other being no more than 3 feet away like the pair of codependent cocksuckers they still are.

This particular cool fall evening I was loitering my balls off outside the one and only connivence store/ gas station in BarFly called the Bub’s Gas’n Grub in the entirely vacant lot somewhere around 8 pm or so. My buddy Slaytanic who had be relentlessly hounding the pay phone (yes they too still existed in limited numbers as cell phones evolved society) trying to find something, anything to do other than what we were currently up to. Slaytanic finally reached The Bastard Brothers on his mental rolodex and found out the two douche bags had a party ball of Schidt. The Brothers also claimed to have in their possession a bag of Northern Lights so if we needed something to do Slaytanic and I could stop by The Brother’s house since their parents were off visiting relatives. After a brief no brainer consultation Slaytanic and I were walking our way over to The Bastard Brother’s parents place.

Once Slaytanic and I arrived Bell-End announces that the two twats had decided to charge everyone $20 to party. This was beyond stupid as fuck for two key principals 1 being imposing a last minute party tax is like a bullshit cover charge, and we’re in BarFly not NYC. The 2nd principal being the Brother’s claim to marijuana fame (Yes again there wasn’t ANY legal weed medical or otherwise.) which was blatant bullshit. There was not a chance in all the religious hells the 2 twits could have gotten their grubby hands on Alaskan high grade shit. What The Brother’s had was what everybody had Mexican brick weed which is very low quality shit (especially by todays standards), and were simply lying to try to warrant their $20 turd tax. Not to mention this was the farthest thing from a party as it was the 2 Bastard Brothers, Slaytanic, myself and one other person who also was a good friend of mine named Space Dog.

It was not just the fact I was hanging at the home of 2 colossal cockbangers but it was the surprise last second tax that just royally chapped my ass, and thus kicked off my rampage of drunken revenge. I had had enough at this point of the to Bastard Brothers with their endless torrent of complete horse shit and even shittier personalities. To get the ball rolling I decided to pound beers like an alcoholic yeti until they went down like water. The entire group adjourned to the backyard at one point to smoke the alleged (and yet totally fake ass) Northern Lights aka dirty ditch weed. After smoking it was back to slamming beers like I was trying to keep Schidt beer from going into bankruptcy until the beer finally ran out. We had been hanging out in the Bastard Brother’s garage but without beer our rag tag group of miscreants headed inside to the basement, thats when I knew the shit was going to reach absolute apeshit levels.

In the interest of time and due to the fact I can’t remember the minor details I present you with a list of pertinent highlights.

  1. I sat down on the crappy couch in the basement (which is where we ended up) propping my foot on the coffee table while holding onto an imaginary steering wheel. When Slaytanic questioned what I was doing exactly I respond by damn near yelling “I’m DRIVING my car MOTHERFUCKER you gonna get in or what?!”
  2. I walked over to the out dated tv with an archaic VCR on top of it. Once I reached the VCR i flipped it upside down and proceeded to start unplugging cords by ripping them forcefully from their various attachments. Again when asked by Slaytanic what the hell I was up to I glared at him and demanded to know “How do you get into this thing?!!!”
  3. In the drunk urinary tradition I wondered over to the water heater and promptly started pissing all over it as well as the floor.
  4. I violently and voraciously vomited in the kitchen sink clogging the holy hell out of it with chunks of regurgitated fish sticks (I had at this time managed to escape from the confines of the basement and was freely walking around The Brother’s parent’s house.)
  5. I was quickly escorted back to the basement where I stumbled into The Brother’s Mother’s at home pottery making shop. Turned out she was really into making clay pots and shit as a relaxing hobby. Now the mother had lined the walls with those cheap rickety metal shelves (not to mention the cheap selves where lined up around the room not just against the wall). They were the kind you see in industrial warehouses anyway she used them for storing her clay pots in various stages of completion . I decided I needed to sit down so I attempted to sit but ran into a serious issue. I tried to sit on one of the shelves but my ass and lower back got sort of stuck so I got trapped in a squatting position. When I stood up I incidentally shoved the self back (thanks Einstein ya dick) and the entire book shelve of clay pots came crashing down in a hailstorm of homemade havoc. Every one of those pots hit the cement basement floor and exploded sending clay fragments flying in every direction.
  6. The next morning after crashing in the basement I went upstairs to make the bladder gladder when I ran into The Bastard Brother’s parents The Dullards. Now the Dullard’s had arrived home an hour or so before our encounter, and they were staring intently at me as if to ask “Who is this bum in our house?!” I hate people staring at me period not to mention I also was insanely hungover and no longer gave a shit about any of it. I turned my head as I passed them on the way to the crapper I stated in brutally blunt honesty “What me? Your sons are the real assholes here.” In all do favor I was made aware before hand that The Dullard’s hated my specific race so thats why I gave them a face full of shit, fuck’em their racists.

Around the crack of noon Slaytanic, Space Dog and I walked off into the sun rise never to see The Bastard Brothers or their racist parents The Dullards ever again, and I for one couldn’t be happier.