Am I still an adult if I almost never make the responsible decision?
You’re the adult us dish-towel adults envy.
Are you still an adult if you make the responsible decision but are whiny and pouty about it? Because I bought the dish towels, but damn I wanted the Gamora toys.
I just got my entire shift’s personnel files in fucking email attachments, like they didn’t zip the folders or anything they just made every single individual page a separate attachment. I have to read all of this and be up to speed tomorrow morning, and they have to throw in making it as irritating as humanly possible to navigate.
Isn’t it striking that the most-typical and most-maligned genres of Instagram imagery happen to correspond to the primary genres of Western secular art? All that #foodporn is still-life; all those #selfies, self-portraits. All those vacation vistas are #landscape; art-historically speaking, #beachday pics evoke the hoariest cliché of middle-class leisure iconography. (As for the #nudes, I guess they are going on over on Snapchat.)
Why this (largely unintentional) echo? Because there is a sneaky continuity between the motivations behind such casual images and the power dynamics that not-so-secretly governed classic art.
Technology has so democratized image-making that it has put the artistic power once mainly associated with aristocrats—to stylize your image and project yourself to an audience as desirable—into everyone’s hands. (Although the parallel to art as “celebration of private property” is probably most vivid in the case of those who most closely resemble modern-day aristocrats. See: “Rich Kids of Instagram”). But images retain their function as game pieces in the competition for social status. “Doesn’t this look delicious?” “Aren’t I fabulous?” “Look where I am!” “Look what I have!”"
— Instagram and Art Theory (via Bill Couch)