I hate it.
Don’t tell me I don’t “get” it, because you don’t fucking “get” it either.

A rectangle painted on canvas is not art. It’s the skillful movement of oil paint in the right directions to make a shape. It should not sell for millions.

Imagine you’re Michelangelo on completion of the Sistine Chapel, suddenly whisked away in the TARDIS to the modern era, where you are forced to look upon the works of Pollack and Rothko, and make an opinion.

That opinion would probably involve fire.

Why? because we did not go through thousands of years in pursuit of artistic achievement to splatter paint on a platter and call it art. Neolithic cave paintings required more talent.

Incomprehensible abstract art is bullshit.  Why? Because I could also slather paint on a canvas, and it wouldn’t sell. I’d be teased. You only get famous because you have rich friends. I don’t have rich friends, I’m a poor graduate student that writes books and draw bad comic art. All of the spatula work in the world could not make me a hundred bucks.

Not all modern art sucks, mind you. Surrealism and photorealism are fantastic. Probably because they involve actual skill. Georgia O’Keefe has been a favorite since I was little. So has Salvador Dali. This doesn’t save me from having to deal with a pile of pop tops glued on cardboard with Elmer’s and wondering why somebody thought it was a good idea.

I’m glad that some people can appreciate this, really, I am. And I’m sure that I’m going to get a flame war going on this post by every art major at NYU shortly. Meanwhile, Rembrandt weeps in his grave.

This is the gospel according to Ang.