Two Critcological Analyto-theoretica of Hooey's Opus on the Occasion of the Ashholean's Exhibition, "Narcs Dork Off Eirenic Kudoticism", 22 Fatsember-13 JRRTember
W. Eird Hooey: Tolkien's Uninvolved Dishonest Pipe Is an Aperture to an Immoral Stupid Infinity in Too Satisfying Bodyism
by Arthur H. Illery, Ph.D., MFA, Professor of Art History, FATS
W. Eird Hooey's oeuvre has radically disintegrated artism into a silmarillionic conduit of elvish sexuality. I'm frankly surprised that no one's mentioned yet that the internal dynamic of the sexual signifier brings within the realm of discourse a participation in the critical dialogue of the 90s. 1980s, that is. Tolkien's birth in Bloemfontein was, after all, an inherently anti-"artistic" act, de-neutered in its turn by Hooey's satyriatic googling. It should be added that the subaqueous qualities of the facture visually and conceptually activates a participation in Tolkien's pipe-smoke.
Now, Hooey's art begins with the rejection of the analysis of art that was pursued by many Conceptual artists, which encouraged them to believe that if the artist began the artwork, the museum or gallery and the audience in some way completed it. This category of Conceptual art is known as 'institutional critique,' which can be understood as part of an shift away from emphasizing the object-based work of art to pointedly expressing cultural values of society at large. Hooey conducts a visual polemic that essentially says, "VagueJust funEasy Almost insultingBoringBlandDullPainfully dullUnintelligentStupidTriteDoesn’t make senseHas useless additions, gratuitously immoral." Hooey isn't interested in society at large, and certainly not in "context" or any such historicist trash. He activates Tolkien's rhetoric of "they-wee-a-gloomy-party-that-night"ism. Which is why Sam penetrated Shelob.
With regard to the issue of content, the internal dynamic of the sexual signifier verges on codifying the accessibility of the work. Ash nazg drubatuluk, so to speak. The best art has meaning beyond just an image; perhaps it will reck nothing of postmodernism, or remind you of a log with eyes. It also stands out in a crowd, and dares to be different. Well, Hooey says good-bye to all that Didactic Anachronistic Fancy Merely pretty anthropocentrist jerkery. This visual polemic of Dwarvish (not Orkish) anti-aesthetic is brilliantly summed up in the works on display in this exhibition. Derridina claims that "Like goalz r s0 patriarkle capitalist cuz thay presupp0se a meanz-end approach n liek Fr0st says thats from Arist0tl3 who wuz just hyp0statizin 3xperi3nces of tha Iron Ag3 cuz curl3rz w3re iron in thos3 days not plastic s0 thay suxed". I here identify and deconstruct three examples of this anti-aesthetic.
Tolkien Installation Dugout Glue-thing Gherkin-rash
Measurement: Leagues upon leagues.
Material: Botulic spinach, ketchup, toilet paper, humans, mushrooms, pipeweed, stuff
In this installation, Hooey had several random people hang out in front of a commercial signatorium whilst to the side a bus of myshrooms stopped and existed. Overly commercial? Umm... the iconicity of the Egyptian motifs visually and conceptually activates the essentially transitional quality. Hooey's caption eschews the typical obscenitism of the Flamebridge School. Been there, done that. In your face banality marks this stage of Hooey's oeuvre. Not odd enough to visually and conceptually activate the essentially transitional quality. But the space which the artist could not remember were deleted from the model and coloured pink--aa colour which Hooey associated with the body's interior. This space has several metaphorical strands: the train representing toilet paper; the signage representing Elvish linguistics, the people representing carcinogenic hoohah. Thus the work prompts u to reflect upon the discrepancy between real and imagines space; like Tolkien's topography of a constructed past, it glues you to art. When you gaze upon the (absence-of-)signature in this opus, you perceive the truth of Derridina's comment that "THAT LIEK CLAIMZ 0WNERSHIP N TURNZ THIS CHAPT3R IN2 A PR0DUCT 2 BE C0NSUM3D D00D". Yes but what?
Tolkien's Brain Is a Cockroach Saying Yeah to Twinkie-gore
Measurement: 1 hogshead, 27 1/3 ells, and a glook
Material: Turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, mincemeat, warg-breath
In this epithermal tattoo-drawing, a disembodied pipe does not relate to the letters blukhing out of (or into?) a quasi-human but dehumanized head with antennae. Negation of the human can go no further.
Not close enough to kitsch; yet its only thrill is how close it can get to kitsch. bUT NO; THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN ART AND KITSCH IS NOT SO MUCH NEGATED AS COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT. Gratuitous appropriations are here the medium, not the massage. Just too much. The viewer is troubled by how the internal dynamic of the biomorphic forms verges on snark. Or, as Derridina remarked, "I gav3 a pap3r 0n h0w T0lkien t0daly und3rmine3z modarnism cuz teh mod3rnists
w3re all ab0ut W3 R00L CUZ WE R N0T VICT0RIANS N WE R MOD3RN N ANGSTY N ALL THAT
n T0lkine ign0rez th3m n says 3arly medi3val iz kewl cuz its s0 0ld it t0daly
und3rcuts teh wh0le MOD3RN IZ KEWL narratiev wich iz liek fundam3ntaly a bunch a
whiet guyz sayin W3 R0X0R n teh mod3rnists wuz in2 fascism liek Ezra P0und n
m0narxhism n stuf s0 thayr claimz 2 b3 0n teh f0refr0nt r s00000 expl0ded thats
why T0lkiens liek N0 U DONT R0X0R WH0 CAREZ IM IGNORIN U LAM0RZ." An apter riposte to Moron's complaint about Hooey's alleged "neo-Romanticism" was never penned. There in its nasty, stinking underround home our insulted, crushed, and ridiculed mouse promptly becomes absorbed in cold, malignant, and above all everlasting spite. it ill remeber its injury down to the smallest, most ignominious detail, and it will add etails still more spiteful and ignominious, spitefully tormenting itself with its own imaginings. In short: Normativity is clearly blah blah blah, so the work (the brain, if you will) manages to relcate the centre from inside the body to its surface. Tolkien is saying "I is an other"; but Hooey ripostes "Bleep you". reminds one that the palantir is an epicentre of voyeuristic exploration of Edith's glasses. Contrary to the polemicization of Moron, weird stuff is not an epiphenomenon.
Tolk's Pipe was Gooey Galadriel's Nostril Cactus
Measurements: 1 gross
Material: Disgusting bodily fluids, ants, soul, lembas
This gross gargle-gack literally produced biologically depicts a feminized pipe whose orifice opens to both sex abd death, haunted by a shadow suggesting the inner Mordor of the soul. Just as the Fellowship's exploration of Moria recreates the voyeurstic simulacrum of the penetrative act, so this doubling produces an apparently meaningless text that suggests Gimli's desire for Galadriel. Moron's critique of this work may be funny, but so what? Subject matter and idea are disconnected, yes, no doubt; again, funny, but so what? That's part of the anti-aesthetic. Duh. Claiming this work is too corporateand too manly seem unaware it’s humorous. Oft evil will shall evil mar. Poor composition? No, the shadow of the pipe is its own nymphomania. Why is being campy bad? I agree/disagree with some of the things that have just been said, but the internal dynamic of the facture visually and conceptually activates the larger carcass. So there. So read the carcass and externalize the anti-aesthetic. The viewer is literally seduced.
Or, as LUSTMOLCH observed, "THE CHURNING LAVA OF MOUNT DOOM RESULTED FROM THE TECTONIC PLATES GRINDING TOGETHER[\b] ... LIKE THE ELVES LUSTED AFTER THE SEA OOOH YEAH UNH UNH UNH ... AND WHEN THE PLATES DO THE NAST TOGETHER THEY CREATE ALL THE HOT FEATURES OF MIDDLE-EARTH LIKE THOSE DEEP WET RIVER VALLEYS AND THOSE ROUND HILLS YEAH LETS ALL HAVE SEX WITH MIDDLE-EARTH." Although Hooey's work is, of course, more subtle. What isn't?
***
Straddling the worlds of Dumb and Stupid
by Opinions Xu, Ph.D., Mudslinger Extraordinaire, Professor of Art History, FATS
Illery's analysis is boring, moronic, icky, essentially non-art-oriented, meretricious crud, quasi-kitschoid balderdashistic tripe, filth. Make me sick. He attacks Mincing Moron, who, although stupid, is still less bad than Illery. "I'm Illery the Ape I am" must be his theme song. Twerp.
In reality Hooey's work work explores the relationship between Bauhausian sensibilities and counter-terrorism.
With influences as diverse as Nietzsche and Fred, what starts out as triumph soon becomes manipulated into a cacophony of lust, leaving only a sense of unreality and the possibility of a new overpriced catalogue.
Duh
(signed) thy Opinions Xu