Humorous and insightful commentary about art and life in general. Exhibition reviews, explorations on creativity and essays about stuff that happens to all of us in everyday life.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
ALL THE POOP THAT’S FIT TO PRINT
Someday I will wear poop on my shirt. Okay, so when I had babies to haul around that outcome was a sidelight of the job, but I mean today, with my children grown (although they still toss a bit of shit my way every now and then), I refer to the T shirt that says P.O.O.P. which stands for People Offended by Offended People. Count me in as a card carrying member of that club!
This ties in with the annoying phrase of “they” as in “what would they think?”, “they say you should not do that”, and “they are going to be upset with that!” and so on. So tell me…..who are “they?” and why should I care? I like to respond that “they” should care about what “I’ think because “I” think “they” are full of crap most of the time. I expand on this concept in a few of my paintings on the other website (see link), so I won’t get all worked up about it again here because I have a specific point to make.
I am part of a book project entitled “Sex and the Salad, with a little Undressing on the Side”. The second half of that title is my contribution plus about 20 or so pieces of art. The author has been working hard to get it picked up by various venues. The specter of “they” has been a tough sell. Take for example the following interaction with a major retailer. Author contacts corporate offices, explains the premise and the concept and gives the promotional mumbo jumbo that all salesmen have to go through. Corporate Office says “they” are a family friendly, wholesome, conservative company and could never allow such a title to be on their shelves potentially seen by families. Newsflash to the C.O. ...where do you think the family comes from? Last I checked, the Virgin Mary retired long ago. Author then points out that their shelf contains the book The Vagina Monologues right there at eye level. C.O. counters that it has nothing to do with that word and did the Author ever read it? Now I am in agreement with the Author. If my 5 year old says “mommy, what is a v-----?” loud enough for other shoppers to hear, it would be more embarrassing than “mommy, what is sex?” I could handle question B on the spot with mustered dignity, but question A is a tad dicier. Let alone the fact that the stage play announcement of V.M. is often 5 feet high in glowing lights on a public marquee all over the country at any given time.
Other venues and potential contributors have passed as well because of the title and also the use of names in the stories. I find it extremely hypocritical in a number of ways. For example…do any of these self righteous upstanding citizens attend a pro sports game and put money in the pockets of those wonderful examples of moral manhood that we call athletes? Or how about this one? Do they let their children watch shows like “Rock of Love” and “For the Love of Ray J” where women are degraded through tasks of sexual humiliation and paraded like slaves on an auction block to be chosen by the “celebrity” each week for another chance to become the love of his life? And here the author and I have to justify the stories of a single man who dated a lot of women, each of whom was treated like a queen or a goddess? Our society tolerates Hugh Hefner and his harem with barely a yawn, but how dare some guy prepare dinner and then spend a bit of time on the rooftop while waiting for the timer to go off?
Basically the common fear factor is that the book might offend people. Umm…then don’t buy it? What about the rights of the people who might love a little spice and sauce on their daily bread? I guess it boils down to the fact that some of us just have to wear our poop proudly while others decide what is garbage and what it is “they” say is okay.
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