Kinda sad when mainstream media and professional galleries try so hard to understand and profit from something that’s blatantly not for them (a bit of common sense please: just because Kylie Minogue is a celebrity, doesn’t make her a curator of anything of interest to me?) I unabashedly love instagram, probably because I’m rediscovering my visual side. Creative output so far restricted to designing knitwear, but I do remember I actually designed stuff before, you know, my personal religious dark age. How about this question ‘What would art be if it was forced to live without all the pretentious bullshit we have created around it?’
The images selected for this exhibition are absorbing for the two seconds it takes to look at them, before looking at something else. They are part of the endless cycle of looking and discarding that make up our image-mad culture. They are not extraordinary, they are not particularly offensive. They are not art, except in the ad-hoc sense that anything can be art with an Instagram filter on it.