First Name Drop Artists, Then Live Up to My Own Name

The other day I Mireia and I had dinner with none other than Swoon, Blu, and Jorge Rodriquez Gerada, which for me is like sharing a meal with Picasso, Rembrandt, and Dali. Better really, because the bony corpses of the long dead don't make such witty dinner banter.� In case you ignore street art, here is some examples of their work. The Infuencers�is responsible for bring them together in one place, it's this the kind of festival that renews my love of Barcelona. Now that street art is being legitimized I think we should take the offensive and lobby for the illegalization of� corporate and elitist conceptual art. Throw away the key for people who make meaningless orange steel blobs. Straight to the hoosegow for the artists whose work, if removed from a perfectly empty white box, would be indistinguishable from random debris.� Usually when I'm in a museum or gallery my back hurts. I've polled other people, and they say the same thing. I think our backs probably hurt all the time, it's just that fancy art spaces are sensory deprivation tanks, stripped of all stimulus to give weight to the underwhelming work on display. Because there is nothing else to notice, we become suddenly aware of something that is normally just background static..... gravity's effect on our bodies.