In an old documentary about spoken word, (I know, gross) called Poetry in Motion, Charles Bukowski said something that became a mantra stuck to me like refried beans to my ribs ever since.
“I had to continue because they were so bad, not because I was so good. And I’m still not so good, but they are still very bad.”
It’s a quote that has perfectly encapsulated the handful of artists I love, and all the impostors that I hate.
Fine art’s bad wrap most often comes from people’s exposure to bad art, and there is so, so much bad art. Abstract Expressionism or what ever post modern moniker that’s in vogue this week is always going to win the shit end of the very shitty stick. This is because the layman’s confusion and worst distrusting inclinations are easily validated by the sheer crush of awful amateur practitioners splatting paint on canvas. The result is endless world of bad optics for an eternally mocked field of study.
But the constant exposure and presence of bad expressionism doesn’t mean that good abstract painting isn’t a real thing.
When I was in school, one of my old art history professors showed a slide from a breakfast cereal advertisement from the late 60’s, mocking modern art. A basket ball player, I don’t remember who created his master piece by bouncing his ball in paint and then on a canvas. The joke was low hanging fruit but it reflected the public’s smirking sentiment towards this new art movement that has never gone away.
The professor showed the “modern masterpiece” next to a Pollock. Of course the result was “fuck you, Wheaties.” The photo slide of the Pollock, even without the benefit of scale, and smell and presence, was fucking beautiful. The basket ball joke, was a joke.
When I look at Sylvain Tremblay’s work, even without the benefit of scale, and smell and presence, I immediately flash back to that slide in class so many years ago. Fuck you Wheaties, and fuck all the haters that don’t know any better. With just a few twists of a pallet knife, Tremblay regularly expresses a birth of expressions and emotions that most will never ever achieve. They all might be that bad, but he’s also that good.
-Jack Mongoose
