LETTER: Bronze sculptor pushes past boundaries of good taste
Editor’s note: This letter is in response to “The Man of Bronze,” published Nov. 17.
As I picked up a fresh copy of Central Michigan Life today, I scanned the sections like I usually do before I sit down to read the horrors and the triumphs of campus this week. (Ok, I was looking for the crossword, too.) Regardless, I was struck by the Senior Art student profile on Arik Anderson. Seriously, was the most dynamic, most important piece of work that he made really “The Douchebag Award?” And in showing him sitting next to the award, are you trying to suggest that the man who made a bronze sculpture of his own testicles is a douche bag winning the award that he himself created? And, strictly speaking, I think “douche bag” is two words, not one.
Perhaps, it’s more a commentary of our generation than a tasteless news article in that the only art people are interested in are ones that are funny but not clever. Anderson, under the assumption of this article, is the mook of the art world, thinking that it would be a great symbolic joke to pour hot wax on his nuts. Maybe he should have filmed it with a crew for MTV or MTV2 (neither play music videos anymore, anyway), and they can call it “Masterpiece Jackass Theater.” Maybe they could put out the fire on his scrotum with Sprite soda and make a killing on the return.
I’d be offended, but this doesn’t surprise me of my generation anymore. I fear we’re going to completely destroy all of the humanities one after the other.
It doesn’t matter anyway. We don’t have a culture anymore as much as a quagmire. Now, if you’ll excuse me, “The Jersey Shore” is on.