Sculpture is a paradoxical medium. Often provoking (It looks like Britney Spears giving birth on a bearskin rug, but it isn’t really Britney Spears giving birth on a bearskin rug, wow, that’s confusing, y’all. Art is hard!) yet equally often irresistably attracting, it confounds as it engages. We adore, yet we recognize the falsehood inherent in the artist’s physical manifestation of an actual, yet independent subject; do we worship, or abhor?
Sometimes both. Two-part post. Sometimes the difference between appreciation and loathing just comes down to a point of view.
Don’t ask me why. Blog works in mysterious ways. But today, if you’ll just scroll down and see, is Egg Day. If you’re feeling generous, you can even include the post from yesterday about the trichinosis worms (I mean, it’s the eggs that getcha, right? and there were millions of the wee buggers, so that’s gotta count for at least one, right?).
still count as celebrities.
Nietzschian monkeys hangin' in a bar, picking up chicks. This is why ARPANET developed opposable thumbs and the ability to stand upright: specifically so that one day it would be mighty enough to post this link. Bonus Squiddy goodness.
raincoaster 