Let the shitstorm blow.

Left : © Natalie Angus
Avocado and Mud, 2011
glazed ceramic (with added avocado.)










Below : © Richard Deacon
North Tree and Rock, 2009
glazed ceramic


And so the question of validity continues. What constitutes a piece of contemporary art? Is it even an obtainable thing. With contemporary art thriving on the concept of the all-inclusive, yet failing to include so much what's the bloody point. If you are opposed to many threads of current practice, if you feel it's failing, can you still consider yourself an artist? If all the work you make pivots on undermining yourself and the idea of art, it's function and it's total redundancy what realm are you left in?

It's all pretty epic, and I'm sure there's no definitive answer, and herein lies the undeniable beauty of art. It's one big contradiction which is exciting, you can exist in a sphere where you don't have to assign yourself to anything. It's possible to both love and reject at the same time.

I must say, that I love Richard Deacons work aesthetically, ceramic, bulbous, alluding to the recognizable whilst still remaining abstract are all discourses I relish in. Yet, part of me says, you stick it in a gallery and you take away the fun. We go to these places to experience a reality shift, an escapism. But in anticipation it's desiccated.

Therefore, art fails at it's function to excite me anymore. Bogged down, with a critcal mind.

However, on the contrary I will defend Arts right to exist, to be exhibited, to be acknowledged as a fine form of cultural communication. Both verbose and uniting.

It's a fucking riddle and I have permanent brain fog.