As most of you know, Dan and I work our soul-crushing day jobs (this is a requisite for artists) at the Starbucks at Wilshire and Detroit in LA, where Detroit inexplicably goes about a half-block as a two-way and then becomes a one-way street. About a block off in either direction -- 6th street to the north, Fairfax about three blocks east, and La Brea a block west, we were seriously at ground zero for all of the street art showcased in the "documentary." Buff Monster, Mister Brainwash, even Banksy (who did a piece at our local car wash), etc, all did most of their work within shouting distance of...well, us.
First of all, for anybody who has any doubts, this "documentary" is utterly bullshit (sorry, Ty Burr in the Boston Globe). There is not a frame of this film that wasn't scripted and choreographed in advance. I feel like I can say this as 1) another weird-ass artist, and 2) a guy who lives and works right at ground zero. So, look, Academy, I know you've all got hard-ons to unmask Bansky at the awards ceremony, but this movie seriously should not even count as a documentary, because it is utter fabrication. Actually, Dan and I literally punched each other in the face for about ten minutes, trying to convince each other that people are for real taking this movie seriously, especially after the ludicrously staged third act, and we finally got tired and accepted the fact that apparently to everybody but us, this documentary kinda rings true. P-shaw.
The more I think about it, the more I kinda want to throw up. That also might be from the shots I took to the head. Dan is goddamn strong...for a bearded guy who isn't Brawny. I had no idea...I kinda always thought he was a bitch. Not Brawny. That guy's damn manly. Like, 70s porn star manly. I mean...nevermind. I love Amanda Palmer and want to have sex with her red hair. Yes. I am totally oriented to women.
Sorry. Again.
But the art thing. Look, danandvince have mad street cred after the Joaquin Phoenix thing, which is all over this blog, and you can read about until you are sleepy. So we tell you this: EXITH THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP is...half-baked. First of all, Mister Brainwash's stuff came out about the same time as all this other stuff, at least in LA, and artistically, it was every bit as valuable. You can say it was garbage, and meant nothing, just like you can say Banksy's little girl watering flowers on the side of a carwash means nothing. Or you can read significance into it, in that the juxtaposed images of Obama, Palin, and McCain in Marilyn make-up make a profound statement about the media whorishness of politicians. EXIT... would have you believe that if you took those image seriously, you're a dumbass, like all the extras they hired to show up at Mr. Brainwash's "show" at the old CBS building. Untrue. First of all, nobody that didn't live in Mid-Wilshire ever saw this stuff. I don't think there even was a real Mr. Brainwash show. Maybe there was, but Dan and I work crap hours, so maybe we missed it, but I guarantee those guys in the movie are extras.
Look. We used to be hella militant about what was art and what wasn't (we are art, everything else isn't...), and felt like everybody who didn't see things our way was re-stupi-tarded. I admit, we were wrong. But the thing is, when you get paid buckets and buckets of money for painting an elephant, you start to get really smug and superior about what is art and who can make it and what-all-else-not, but the fact is, art is beauty, and if something is beautiful to someone and they want to dump the price of a nice home on it...let them. I'm sorry they think beauty is so rare they must put such a premium on it. I recommend visiting Debs park on the east side. But nobody with money wants to drive east of the 405...their loss.
I will say this -- EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP and I'M STILL HERE are the same movie. People in each case perpetuated a giant hoax in public, and in front of video cameras, to make an obscure point about art and celebrity. EXIT... was handled better because they picked an obscure venue that didn't call attention to how it was being manipulated. But everybody who's mad at one film really should be mad at the other. This statement has the Dan and Vince guarantee.
Banksy, you're cool, but you're kind of a rich prick now. Dan and I were -- and this is no BS -- at Shepard Fairey's first solo show at the 1300 Gallery in Cleveland before anybody knew about this stuff. We were on the ground floor -- invisible, but present -- and we can smell a rat. Duchamp's point a hundred years ago was that if an artist says it's art and puts it in a gallery, it is art. Elmyr de Hory said that if you put a fake in a gallery and it hangs there long enough, it becomes real. Both were more right than you. You're saying that if an artist says it's art and puts it in a gallery anyone who believes it's actually art is stupid. You're wrong, rich guys. You made it real art, whether you meant to or not. To criticize the machine is to misunderstand the machine...in this particular case.
To summarize -- EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP will win the best documentary Oscar, because every voter in town wants to act like they were hip to what was going down in their back yard, as their limos drove them down Fairfax to the Fairbanks theater on La Cienega. Whatever. How Green Was My Valley. (that's a totally inside reference, and if you get it, you will vote for a different movie - INSIDE JOB, WAITING FOR SUPERMAN, or THE TILLMAN STORY, for instance. Or a write in for YEAR AT DANGER, which was criminally overlooked)
Vince -- in a more thoughtful mood than usual -- out.
