it's not everyday that one gets painted by your boyfriend, the painting gets to be sold, and it gets to be hung somewhere else other than your own home for your own viewing pleasure. in fact, the whole concept of it is really bizarre. a picture of yourself in someone else's home. and you don't even know who that someone else is. throw your boyfriend in the picture (literally), it simply adds another dimension to it.

of course, you can say that you have done that a million and one times over IRC with those 'trade pics?' replies that you get from them horny strangers online. but that fact that someone pays money to buy a picture of a total stranger that arouses strange feelings within himself... now that's my definition of... well, being aroused.

this is why art and paintings are always so foreign to me. the fact that you need to figure some sort of intangible message behind a picture rather than just immerse yourself in it and let the senses do the talking, is really just beyond me. of course i could literally do just that, immersing myself in every picture i see. only catch is that i would end up catching a lot of paint, looking as colorful an artist's palette, and having the curator hot on my heels for compensations. not that that would be a bad idea. i can actually then have the right to buy my own painting, albeit a little smudged at the cheekbones.

i used to believe that you could learn anything at all through reading. true, you can learn how to do proper bicep curls through Men's Health, keep up to date with the entertainment industry via The Rolling Stones magazine, or even learn a new language through some random book with audio CD (got audio CD, so it's kinda like cheating actually). but when it comes to art, nothing compares to the real thing. true, you get to see pictures of what modernism and expressionism are all about. and you learn impressive party phrases to say about art pieces. still, it doesn't beat being at the Louvre, looking at daffodils or a smiling (or is she not smiling) woman, enjoying the air-con and millions of tourist that make the art pilgrimage.

well, the boyfriend's art exhibition is tomorrow and i'm kinda worried. as an educated gay person, i don't really know how to behave at an art exhibition. plus the boyfriend and i have been painted in a picture. do i stand beside the picture so that it'll sell? do i avoid the picture so that it'll sell? do i occasionally stand beside the picture and avoid the picture so that it'll sell? actually on second thought, i should avoid the picture since the real deal is kinda disappointing at first sight. i'll prolly be exhibition art when i collapse on the floor after having one too many glasses of bubbly.

and given that i haven't really hung out with a bunch of artists before, i don't really know what to say. i've done dancers and musicians and installation artists and performance artists, but a set of people who create something out of smudges and brush strokes, plus they think that they are somewhat super elite for being able to do that. artists are practical people who think of the tangibles (i'm using this word a lot these days hor?) like lightings and props. installation art people focus on the shocking and things that you can touch and see and experience in a set place. musicians make music. dancers use their bodies to express themselves. but artists.... tsk. where do i begin? having watched Frida and Fur and many other movies about display artists, i'm beginning to think that artists are a bunch of eccentric people.

because of this, i've kinda devised a few relatively impressive one-liners to say about the art pieces i'm viewing tomorrow. of course, all this will be said after i've had quite a bit of champagne and my bulletproof vest on. you listen ah:
- 'it's a little bit rough on the edges, but i think it will fit well in the lavatory'
- 'is it waterproof?'
- 'i could have done it too, just that i lack the talent, creativity, skill, psycho-motor skills and emo factor'
- 'just add a little bit of lighting and it will make a good lampshade'
- 'can i fold it and keep it in my wallet as a memento?'
- (whips out camera phone)

i'm actually afraid i'll say something stupid like all of the above in tomorrow's art exhibition. and when i actually do, everyone will give me that kind of look. you know? the look reserved for people who just farted silently but it's so obvious because you can see the green gas emanating from behind him. yeah, contempt plus disgust. which is why, art is just one letter short of a fart.

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