Look, some weird stuff has gone down in the art world over the years. It's just the sort of scene that inspires a certain amount of weirdness-from Van Gogh thinking all would be well if he only used a blunted blade to slowly and horribly hack off his ear to the occasional bondage sculpture gone awry to dudes getting their emotional vent on by pissing in someone's fireplace. But at the cost of jeopardizing my status on the art party invitation list, this: If I go to one more massive arts organization benefit full of polite this and drink ticket that and minimum bid whatever-the-hell, I may just go postal. I don't own any kind of automatic weapon, but I do have an antique Balinese sword that would do a good impersonation of tormented ear surgery on at least a dozen people before 1) it gives up the ghost or 2) elite police units tackle and beat me senseless.
To qualify my remarks: There's nothing wrong with the organizations hosting these shenanigans disguised as shindigs, it's the fact that there's a need for such farcical excuses for parties to exist at all that wedges its sandy nastiness in my craw. In the past couple weeks I've been to CCA's Metamorphosis Ball (the inception of which could arguably be blamed on me, but certainly not the success) and FOCA's It's In The Bag benefit at the Museum of Fine Arts. Both lovely and brilliant affairs, except for one thing. If a fraction of the bones in your body hum, zing, zag and otherwise vibrate in the presence of art and you make, say, a minimum of $24,000 a year, you've got no excuse for not already being a member of these two organizations (unless, ahem, journalist ethics demand that you refrain from such blatant allegiances). If your income is a touch greater, say, 50 grand a year, and your soul is still stirred by art, you'd best be doing more than donating a few dozen bucks a year for organizations that work their asses off to ensure that the scene in these drought-laden parts remains more than vital-ass-kicking and getting better all the time. If your annual ducat bucket counts in at closer to one hundred Gs or more, as it does for many in these parts, you're a hideous, cowardly and pathetic creature if you're not doing something significant-very F'ing significant-to support the ones who support that thing you love. It all seems simple enough, eh?
But that's obviously not the case yet or we wouldn't have to have these ridiculous parties. Look, here's how these things shake down: A recurring and familiar batch of artists who can be counted on to donate work for free are put on display in a horrible "buy me for a good price or I'll go home depressed" environment alongside a few select superstars that will command über-prices dappled betwixt. Everyone walks around politely saying hello and politely tying one on-although neither of these recent events has grokked the basic fact that bourbon is a staple in any proper bar, fergodssake-and politely lowballing hard-working artists who actually care about the organization they've donated to. Of course, this isn't a rule-there are many folks who bid generously and support the arts diligently throughout the year, but if we all put our money where our mouths, and even our hearts, are, these organizations could afford to throw a big party for their supporters every year without asking for money. It would be nothing but a kick-out-the-jams-thank-you-very-much instead of the annual oh-god-please-give-us-money-or-there'll-be-no-art-for-the-children bullshit.
I understand I'm begging for something that goes against convention here; major and minor arts organizations everywhere throw all kinds of annual fundraising events. It's pretty much tradition at this point. But isn't it always worth asking, especially in the City Different, if we can break with convention in some meaningful way? If we can lead rather than follow? If our community can boast arts organizations that have to puzzle over how to thank their supporters rather than how to milk them? Just asking.
In other news, and to paraphrase a mystery song from the '80s, Munson Hunt may be tiny, but she's strong! Check out the timeless, Stonehenge-y, chakra-cracking exhibition by the sculptor at the College of Santa Fe Visual Arts Center (1600 St. Michael's Drive, 473-6560) through Nov. 30.
Also, I suppose it doesn't mean much, but I'm glad that we opted to give an award at the Oct. 26 SFR Halloween party to a guy dressed as RC Gorman. How's having someone deem you fit for a costume as a prescient indication of timeless legend status? Rest in wild abandon, RC.
