There are 2 kind of cliché in art. One is this cliché, and the other one; I’d like to call it a wangsta – art with intellectual cliché. The first one is usually so banal and overuse that is so predictable and rarely challenge a thorough intellectual interpretation.
Wangsta art is a hybrid of the first one. The difference is that, these kind of art is so turgid and cowardly hide behind the facade of intellectual terminology. Usually the descriptions of the body of its art are written in an over-analytical style. The interpretations are bias and done by networks of experts that don’t dare to speak the truth. They have a collection of thick thesaurus and were used to confuse the appreciation of its bad art because “you don’t get it”.
Wangsta art bothers me. They have a little empathy for non-English speaking audiences that want to appreciate its (menial) works and cashing up on language confusion. Playing up with confusion is cheating and betrays the essence of art that supposedly arouse the existence of intellectual. It is a double confusion.
Wangsta art is not the opposite of mainstream. Mainstream is great and I really respect them. Mainstream is honest in its simplicity, while wangsta art is crude but scared to admit its limitation.
Wangsta artists are very unskilful and careless in using the tools of its expression. They are so murky rather than vivid. Myth and Mystique also part of the trick and they hail them as a religion.
Wangsta artists refuse ends. They are swimming in the sea of self-indulgence, and upset when the sponsor reminds them that the bill is overdue. And when they have to submit it, it’s only a result of things over one night burning midnight’s oil – mediocre – and they call it works in progress.
Wangsta artists like self-torment in the name of process. They always carry bleeding-heart emotion over shallow and easy task. They wear the emperor’s new clothes called “untitled”
Wangsta = Wan**r + Gangsta, It’s not dubious meaning.
