Perhaps these Odes may best be compared with the little craftless
figures in an early age of pottery, when the fragrance of the soil yet lingered about the rough clay.
Ivan Massow, head of the Institute of Contemporary Arts, once famously described conceptual art as "pretentious, self-indulgent, craftless
Furthermore, the dichotomy of the cabin as both craftless
"filth" and creative "hope" presents a challenge to the purity of the art that is Audubon's passion and personal identity.
Whereas his rhetoric about his work still matched that of his peers in his own generation--full of both ego and spirituality--the appearance of his work at the time lent itself to a misreading as craftless
and impersonal: qualities accepted as a plus by the next generation's artists and that they set out to pursue in their own work.
Often, among traditionalists, the assumption is that such "pretentious, self-indulgent, craftless
tat" ("Damien Hirst" 2007) is produced by those who lack the traditional fine art skills of drawing, painting, and sculpting, substituting for these hard-won disciplinary achievements and sensory pleasures a calculated idea, a tritely 'illustrative' iconoclastic concept.
He has work in collections across the globe, a fact he points out when I ask him what he made of claims earlier this year by Ivan Massow, Chairman of the Institute of Contemporary Arts, that concept art is ``pretentious, selfindulgent, craftless
His 'crime' was to describe conceptual art as 'self-indulgent, craftless
tat' and to be rude about Tracey Emin, the artist who gave us her unhygienic bed as a modern masterpiece.
He claimed conceptual art by the likes of Tracy Emin and Damien Hirst was 'pretentious, self-indulgent and craftless
ART expert Ivan Massow says conceptual art is "pretentious, self-indulgent, craftless
tat" (The Mirror, January 18).
Sadly, he must be wondering just how many games of craftless
, pinball entertainment he will have to endure.
For this engagement the star's ability and appeal were subsumed by craftless
dancemaking, an oddly unsuccessful mix of choreography by Hoyos and another flamenco legend, Manolo Marin.
It is, regardless of the ethnicity of the poet, the standardized American poem of the past twenty-five years: simple declarative syntax; the illusion of a craftless
, transparent language; a simple, speechlike singular voice in the service of a poem that ends with a moment of epiphanic wonder and/or closure where all parts of the poem relate to a common theme.