Tag Archives: Critique

BUT IS IT ART? // Medicate (Be Happy or Else)

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TATI: Tony, Tony… they say that female’s logic cannot be explained. But now can you explain to me your bloody male logic?

TONY: Okay, what have I done wrong this time?

TATI: Mascara Baby. Some pink-yellow mess with a vague hint of a vagina. NSFW. Chelonian Devil. A cute blood-stained tortoise with pretty questionable aggression. NSFW.

TONY: Aw, come on now! They’re nice, wholesome images, don’t you think?

TATI: Medicate (be Happy or Else). A frank picture of a woman’s genitals which do what they are supposed to do. And… antidepressants, art, depression, disappointment, failed expectations, hard choices, lemons, low self esteem, medicating, sexuality, shame… blah-blah-blah. Everything except your beloved ‘NSFW’. What happened? Did you think this bare ass IS really safe for work?

TONY: Well, I suppose it’s a little bit confronting…

TATI: Do ya?

TONY: Okay, it is, but I had a point to make. And I think I made it quite well!

TATI: Yes, Tony. You made a pretty bum point.

TONY: Wow. You should be a stand-up comedian. I’m laughing so goddam hard right now. Someone get me a roll of gaffer tape. I need to stop my sides from splitting.

TATI: Oh… that’s the most strange compliment that I’ve ever gotten. But I love it.

TONY:  It’s not a compliment.

TATI: I wonder if a girl is told she could be a stand-up comedian, can it be considered a compliment?

TONY: I was being sarcastic.

TATI: Okay. So, you pictured the birth process of the most perfect, happiest being? A lemon?

TONY: No, it’s my take on the whole “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!” thing. It’s an expression that I don’t think much of.

TATI: And now you sound like a christian anarchist, Tony.

TONY: Christian anarchist?

TATI: “All good men are Anarchists.” Do you agree, Tony? Can you call yourself an anarchist?

TONY: Hm. I think I’m much too conservative to be an anarchist. And what do you mean by christian? I’ve not been one of those for quite some time.

TATI: Tony, when you quote someone, you should be aware of whom you quoted at least. One beautiful day you may find yourself quoting Hitler or SpongeBob SquarePants. Quoting is a tricky thing, you know.

TONY: Oh! Is it L. Ron Hubbard? He was the one who wrote about life, lemons, and fizzy drinks, yes?

TATI: It’s Elbert Hubbard!

TONY: Well, one of them isn’t a scientologist. I know that much.

TATI: Let’s get back to bare asses.

TONY: I didn’t draw a bear’s arse.

TATI: Tony, you’re not only deaf. You’re blind. I wrote bare. Not bear.

TONY: Are you sure you didn’t mean bair?

TATI: No, and I didn’t mean briar either!

TONY: Ouch.

TATI: Yes. Especially for bare asses.

TONY: Okay. Fine. Seeing as you’re so fixated on arses, what do you want to know?

TATI: Well, why didn’t you draw a picture of a funnel?

TONY: A funnel? How would that have gotten my point across?

TATI: I think this fair lady dispenses her fine urine a bit carelessly. A funnel would be more effective.

TONY: Less messy, you mean?

TATI: Yes. Have you tried to piss into a glass, Tony?

TONY: No. Have you?

TATI: Only when I underwent medical tests. I had to prove that I wasn’t drunk or stoned.

TONY: Oh, so this was in doubt at some point in your life?

TATI: Tony, don’t try to one up me. We’re discussing your freaking art, not the details of my private life!

TONY: So, your objection to this piece of art is not the subject matter or its themes, but to the fact that her urine isn’t being collected using the most optimal means available?

TATI: Tony, please, can you sum up the ultimate goal of this picture? What did you want to declare with this?

TONY: I think it’s the depression sufferer’s way of saying, “You want me to put on a false smile and make lemonade? Here’s your goddam lemonade!” It’s a reflection on how exasperating society’s unhelpful just-get-over-it response to mental health issues can be.

TATI: Oh. Fuck me twice on a Sunday. I give up! Yes, Tony, it IS art. Amen.

TONY: Oh my. Does this mean I win our little word joust this time? I can’t believe it. Fuck me twice on Sunday too!

TATI: Shut up. I’m googling ‘exasperating’ now…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

BUT IS IT POETRY? // Butchering

A medium size.
A medium density.
A medium price.
Generally, it’s dark blue
in the null assemblage point.

(Sometimes it becomes
red or green. But it’s kinda
my little secret.)
A fray is on the back edge
and a slight scent of joss sticks.

Dozens of defects…
The usual thing, in short.
Where is theurgy?
It’s a matter of arrows.
The bright red on the dark blue.

It’s my secret path,
my color-coded loophole,
my molded carcass.
A scheme of the primal cuts
for my gnostic butchering…

Numinous blades slip
and split along my axis.
The golden section…
I yield my offal and meat
under the Karma Cutter.

When my shanks sprawl out
and my round points to the east,
I distinctly hear
chuckling of a sacred cow
in esoteric silence.

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TONY: Butchering. Let’s discuss ‘Butchering’.

TATI: Okey-dokey. Let’s butcher ‘Butchering’. Get your knife, Tony the Ripper.

TONY: I’m a bit squeamish at the sight of blood and guts, so please forgive me if I happen to clunk on the floor in a dead faint during our conversation. Even the thought is distressing.

TATI: Don’t worry. There’s a yoga mat. Faint as you please.

TONY: How thoughtful! Have I ever told you how thoughtful you are?

TATI: Hmmm… Should I answer this question?

TONY: Well, questions usually precede answers. That’s how the universe works!

TATI: I will remember this piece of wisdom.

TONY: Anyway, I find that I need a dictionary whenever I read of one of your poems. So many unheard of words!

TATI: Should I say, “Sorry?”

TONY: No no no. Just explain what some of them mean is all. I’m a bit of a dim bulb, you know.

TATI: Who is a native here, Tony? What should I explain?

TONY: Everything! I mean, what’s it all about? And what do you mean by ‘null assemblage point’?

TATI: Have you read Carlos Castaneda?

TONY: No. Did he become a library book?

TATI: Assemblage point: In Castaneda’s works, the term means a locus of perception within the energy field of a being. Moving the assemblage point causes the being to perceive and interact with a different reality.

TONY: That sounds like meditating to me.

TATI: Does it make things clearer, Tony?

TONY: Marginally. I thought the poem was about your yoga mat. It is in the title after all.

TATI: Bingo, Captain Obvious! Yes. Do you know words ‘yoga’ and ‘mat’?

TONY: Of course! But what does ‘it becomes red or green’ mean? And why is that kinda your little secret?

TATI: The thing is… well… Once or twice I’ve had an interesting visual illusion during my lessons. I saw like my yoga mat changes its color.

TONY: Oh, so you find this embarrassing for other people to know? Sounds like a pretty cool altered state of consciousness thing to me! Unless, of course, you’re some kinda junkie. Are you a junkie?

TATI: What? Of course no, Tony! But who could believe I saw this and was completely sober? Could you?

TONY: That’s a fair point, but I always look like I’m stoned, even though I’m not. At least you look like a respectable modern woman, a professional whose integrity is not to be questioned.

TATI: Errmm… is it a compliment? OK. Thank you.

TONY: What I do find a little questionable are the last two stanzas in your poem. I have a feeling that you’re literally sacrificing yourself to some… well… I don’t know what.

TATI: Let me reread it.

TONY: Okay, you do that. I’ll remove all sharp objects from the room.

TATI: Done.

TONY: So, what are those stanzas actually about then?

TATI: Damn… it’s not very easy answering such questions actually…

TONY: Aw… Please do try! I wanna know if it’ll ever be safe to eat with cutlery in your presence again.

TATI: Actually, it’s about my state when I do my yoga. Tony, have you practiced yoga?

TONY: A little bit, yes.

TATI: Have you felt sometimes something special? Something that you can’t explain with words? Just feel with your skin, like goose bumps?

TONY: Admittedly, yes. It’s rare, but it has happened. In fact, it’s more like a deep calmness that comes over me.

TATI: Do you find it’s easy to express? To explain to other people what you feel?

TONY: Not always, no, but that’s what you’ve attempted to do with this poem, is it not?

TATI: Yes… and now I wonder if such things should be poemed at all. It looks like we swapped in our discussion. I asked more questions than you.

TONY: Yeah, I kinda dropped the ball there, didn’t I? I guess we can conclude that some things are better left unexplained and should just be experienced instead. But does this mean that in future you’ll refrain from writing odes to your yoga mat?

TATI: Nope.

TONY: Such a relief! A world without your poetry would be like a boiled egg without soldiers!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

BUT IS IT ART? // Chelonian Devil

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TATI: Tony, again, I’m starting our discussion with the same question. Why on earth do you persist in tagging almost everything as NSFW on your personal art blog? Is it because the tortoise wears no panties? Or it has a dirty tattoo on the left buttock?

TONY: Do tortoises even have buttocks? And how do they defecate for that matter? Does a tortoise shell have a back door?

TATI: Or are you just trying to lure readers with such a cheap trick as the NSFW tag?

TONY: Naw, I just wanna be sure that people can’t complain that I didn’t warn them. Maybe I worry about that too much.

TATI: Okay, I will be a nudnik here.

TONY: What the hell is a nudnik?

TATI: Not suitable/safe for work—or NSFW—is Internet slang or a shorthand tag used in email, videos, and on interactive discussion areas (such as forums, blogs, or community websites) to mark URLs or hyperlinks that contain nudity, intense sexuality, profanity or disturbing content, which the viewer may not wish to be seen accessing in a public or formal setting such as in a workplace or school.

TONY: That pretty much sums it up.

TATI: Does this picture fall into that explanation?

TONY: I think so. Some folks could deem it a bit inappopriate ‘cos of all the blood and hurty teeth. Not everyone likes blood and hurty teeth, y’know!

TATI: That’s a laugh, Tony! Children in kindergarten draw monsters hell wouldn’t have.

TONY: This is true. And then it’s drummed out of them. They’re told to stop drawing such nonsense—which is a shame really.

TATI: Well, I don’t know if it was a good thing that your nurse didn’t take your crayon away. You could grow up and became a decent person—there’s still time. An engineer or even a manager…

TONY: Pffft! That’s boring! I’d rather be a pig mucking around in mud! At least they’re having fun!

TATI: OK… don’t worry, I’m kidding. So, what did you have on your mind when you were drawing this? How did you come up with the idea of this picture?

TONY: I realised that I have never really drawn anything horror-related before, so I wanted to give it a try to see if it was something I could do. And my art style is quite cartoony, so this was always going to be a bit of a challenge. I don’t recall how I came up with the idea though. I knew I wanted it to not have eyes. I knew that much.

TATI: It’s strange. This picture makes me wonder how this reptile attacks. It has clean belly and feet, but spattered back and snout. Does it jump, hit a victim with its shell, and land on its feet again? And noms on the victim after this?

TONY: I think you’ve missed your calling, Tati. You should’ve been a forensic scientist all along! Such technical terms! ‘Nom’ for one…

TATI: I could be. But don’t try to dance around the question, Tony!  No eyes, no nostrils… How on earth does this beast find its victims? Regarding that tortoises are pretty slow animals… I suppose they can hunt only blind-deaf-mute cripples.

TONY: I guess it’s the terrapin version of a Sigourney Weaver alien. Oh, hang on, tortoises aren’t terrapins. I should get my own terms straight! Anyway, those aliens—did you see the films? Maybe this creature is like a xenomorph and it doesn’t need eyes?

TATI: Honestly? I have another association.

TONY: Well now, isn’t that just terrific…

TATI: Shall I prove the idea that this creature is unequipped enough to be considered a monster? It just suffers from some hormonal fluxes?

TONY: Oh, sure, prove away! (This oughta be good…)

TATI: Here is your proof.

TONY: Oh, good lord… A premenstrual nightmare tortoise. Kill me, please.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

BUT IS IT POETRY? // Inuk Dream Caused by the Sound of an Icicle Dripping on Her Igloo a Second Before Awakening

I’ve been longing for this vacation.
I work like a slave on plantation.
But I am not an office plebeian,
I am a wastrel, epicurean!

The buzz of a bureau’s honeycomb
easily makes everybody foam,
but I hold on to quietude and calm—
a plane ticket works just like a heart-balm.

Yells of a chancellor, squeaks of clerks…
they’re not real people, but hoarse clockworks.
Vegetation and soporific esse?
No, thank you. I will never acquiesce!

Meditating the existential,
I packed my valise and credential.
Full steam ahead! Time to sip coconuts
and pinch sappy indigenes for ripe butts.

I came down from the passenger bridge…
What the hell? Where is the nearest fridge?!
Oh, my Nemesis! Forgive your lost nun!
I implore you, get me back to square one!

I am sitting in the hotel rooms
washing down with dark rum my doldrums,
bedamning all photojournalist-jerks
who seduce us, naif untutored clerks.

Don’t be swayed by pictorialism,
don’t believe in exceptionalism,
sit in your office, don’t move a muscle,
leave parallel hot circles for mussels!

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TONY: Well, here we are again. We’re going to be discussing poetry this time, not art. And it’s your latest poem that’s in the line of fire!

TATI: My poem? Really? Don’t you have something more interesting to discuss, Tony? Laundry! Cooking! Look around. So many cool things! Why do you cling to my poetry?

TONY: Because you deserve to suffer as much as I did when my Mascara Baby got pulled apart. Okay, let’s get down to it. Firstly, the title… Why the hell is it so long?

TATI: It’s pure peacockery. But, OK… I hoped to hook people’s attention, and to hint at what the main topic of the poem would be.

TONY: In the interest of full disclosure, I guess I should mention that this poem is the result of a challenge I set you. I threw down the gauntlet, so to speak.

TATI: Yeah. Why don’t I feel relief after this confession? You haven’t tried to make things easy, have you?

TONY: That’s true. I gave you a bunch of words to put into a poem… as well as the topic. Do you remember what these were?

TATI: Of course! They will chase me in my nightmares until my last gasp.

TONY: Like a defenseless kitten being hunted down by a pack of underfed bloodhounds. I’m so evil!

TATI: No sane person uses the words ‘photojournalist’ and ‘plebeian’ in the same poem, especially one about an ice cube melting on a tin roof.

TONY: You’re right. It was a pretty ridiculous challenge, no?

TATI: Photojournalist, plebeian, quietude, chancellor, exceptionalism, doldrums, soporific, honeycomb, nemesis, existential.

TONY: Those are some mighty big words, aren’t they? So, how did you manage to find a way to use them all? What was your process?

TATI: Hm… it’s hard to describe my creative process, actually. The general idea came into my mind pretty quickly. But it was a kernel, not flesh.

TONY: It didn’t come fully formed?

TATI: LOL! Of course, no. When you think of a picture, do you see the final result immediately? I can bet not.

TONY: Actually, sometimes I do, and the act of drawing it is an attempt to get as close to that vision on the page as I possibly can. But you’re right, it’s not something that would happen all the time.

TATI: Well, it’s like bead stringing. You add word to word, line to line. Sometimes the pattern is neat and nice. Sometimes it’s better to cut the string and start again. This poem wasn’t my soul’s impulse. It was nearly work. I don’t know if that is good or bad. But, hell, it was a challenge!

TONY: So, it was as deliberate and methodical as that, huh? You were taking a more… hm… workmanlike approach to this?

TATI: Yep.

TONY: So, why did you decide to change what the poem was about? Do you have a set against anthropomorphised ice cubes dying beneath a sweltering sun?

TATI: Did I change the topic? Do you feel I cheated? I don’t think so. Firstly, why can’t the hero be an ice cube? Do you remember the snowman who loved warm hugs?

TONY: Love killed him. Are you saying love kills? It’s better not to love or be loved?

TATI: Don’t change the topic! And, as I remember, it was a happy end.

TONY: He was the recipient of… ahem… a ‘friendly massage’? Is that why there was another carrot down there?

TATI: TONY! It was a Disney story! For children! No second carrots! No frogs in diapers!

TONY: That was one weird ass video you showed me. Why the hell would a little girl go around stuffing live frogs into her diapers? Children are mentally ill. Seriously, people should stop having them.

TATI: They educated dolts like you, Tony. Who shoved ‘honeycomb’ and ‘nemesis’ into one poem?

TONY: Anyhow, this is off the point… which I still don’t get. What is it you’re trying to say? That the poem really IS about an ice cube and I’ve got it all wrong? I thought it was about a nun going on holidays and pinching the natives’… butts?

TATI: Yes. But why can’t an ice cube be like a nun? Why can’t a nun be like an ice cube? Are you a chauvinist, Tony? Do YOU have a set against anthropomorphised ice cubes? Or nuns? They have equal rights too, man!

TONY: Wha—? How did this get turned back on me? I’m not the criminal here! Yeesh.

TATI: Okay, let’s go back to the poor poem. Don’t you want to praise how ingeniously and artfully I weaved this?

TONY: Oh, of course! That goes without saying, baby. It totally knocked my socks off! And it was so good it kindly put them back on again, all without me lifting a finger. That’s the total brilliance of a poem written by Tati. About naughty nuns.

TATI: Can poetry be written from the mind, and not from the heart? Can it be a challenge, not soul’s impulse?

TONY: Fancy a cup of tea?

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

BUT IS IT ART? // Mascara Baby

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TATI: OK, Tony, my first question. Why did you tag this illustration as NSFW? I remember ASPHYXIATION and FELLAQUIO and I can see why they wouldn’t be safe to look at if your boss stands behind you. But this?

TONY: Hm. Because of the shape of the baby’s mouth. It’s actually a rather intimate part of the female anatomy that I’ve composited there.

TATI: Oh… really? This blot? Is it a vagina? Are you kidding me?

TONY: Oh, no, I’m not kidding in the slightest. You see, this was based on the disgust I felt after watching a documentary about child beauty pageants. The crass sexualisation of these young souls by their parents was all for the sake of winning… well, what? A cheap trophy? A ribbon? Prestige? What prestige? I was deeply offended that human beings would exploit their own flesh and blood in such a deplorable way.

TATI: Blah-blah-blah… Let’s stick to the topic, Tony. So, is it a baby inside a womb? Or is it just a face with a vagina-shaped mouth?

TONY: Hey! I’m spilling my guts here, lady! Couldn’t you be a wee bit more patient?

TATI: I’m rescuing your reputation, sir. Be grateful.

TONY: Fine. It’s the latter. A face with a vagina-shaped mouth. I was honestly hoping to shock people with the blatant juxtapositioning of these two elements, and get them thinking about why they found it so offensive. In short, I wanted to provoke discussion. As it turned out, no one really picked up on these themes anyway. So, I feel this illustration was a failure.

TATI: Why do you say this?

TONY: Perhaps it wasn’t clear that the baby’s mouth was a vagina. Frankly, visual communication is an ongoing challenge for me. I guess many artists struggle with this… or maybe I’m just not a very good artist. While I may render something a certain way, it doesn’t always mean that the themes I’m trying to convey are necessarily being received and understood as I intend them to be.

TATI: It wasn’t even clear that it’s a face. I guess you needed to put the picture vertical. Then your intent would be more clear. Didn’t you think of this?

TONY: Oh, I see! The egg trying to teach the hen, is that it? Yeah, I have a Bachelor of Visual Arts. And you?

TATI: I have eyes, don’t I? You over intellectualised this illustration.

TONY: Look, you’re probably right. I’m willing to concede that. But what would you have done?

TATI: Firstly, rotate it. And… maybe some details. Streaks of mascara would emphasize two things: crying and makeup. And a pacifier. It would show that the baby is an infant. (You probably like that. A vagina sucking a dummy. Old pervert!)

TONY: What the HELL?! NO! Why on earth would I like that? I think I know who the pervert is here, Tati, and it isn’t ME!

TATI: Just do this, baby. Make the changes. And then we can ask our dear readers who was right.

TONY: Why do I get the feeling we’re going to burn in hell for this?

TATI: Want to bet?

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017