Sometimes an art student needs to be a human in the world again, and accidentally spend all of their materials money and brain cells on a bender. Or an art history student has an Immanuel Kant-precipitated mental breakdown. Maybe you’re just feeling overdue for a jag of getting drunk and acting inappropriately? Whatever your flavor of self-exploration, it’s no excuse to get out of your commitments. Luckily there are two resources to help you get your work done on time, and seem more intellectually developed than a first-year grad student.
The artybullocks generator writes your artist’s statement so you don’t have to. I recently made a performance peace about my liminal phase of life in which I tipsily call someone, drop my phone on the tiled bathroom floor of Union Pool, and then call them back. I do not wipe down the phone before pressing it to my face. The viewer does not hear the voice on the other line, but my side of the conversation reveals that they know I dropped my phone. Just writing that was exhausting. I’ll let artybullocks take it away and make this piece gallery-ready:
My work explores the relationship between the body and multimedia experiences.
With influences as diverse as Derrida and Francis Bacon, new combinations are crafted from both mundane and transcendant discourse.
Ever since I was a postgraduate I have been fascinated by the traditional understanding of relationships. What starts out as hope soon becomes corroded into a carnival of lust, leaving only a sense of dread and the prospect of a new order.
As momentary phenomena become undefined through undefined and academic practice, the viewer is left with an impression of the limits of our condition. (artybullocks)
Perfect. Extra points are given in correlation to the length of time you’ve been committed to your craft, for example, “Ever since I was an zygote.”
For art critics or anyone unlucky enough to be in a crit with required participation, there’s The Instant Art Critique Phrase Generator by Pixmaven. The generator turns five-digit numbers into sentences with casual prefaces and plausible jargon. Each number represents a different portion of the sentence, though the meaning of the number changes in relation to its place in the sequence. Beware ending the number sequence with a five, because it equals “juxtapositions,” and I hate that word. The Instant Art Critique Phrase Generator doesn’t deliver bon-mots, but its critiques are as random and irrelevant to the piece as what you’d say anyway.