Arty farty things that you like.

Pighead

Pigheads no arty farty pretentious tosspot. Far from it. Pigheads your average, everyday http://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/member.php?u=6020. A simple man with simple pleasures. Watching a game of football with the lads, reading a book with just the right amount of big words in it, appreciating a bit of opera, but just the hits.

Anyway most of the arty farty stuff out there makes Pigheads eyes roll way back in his head, a bit like this wee fella :rolleyes:.

For example the below exhibition by the artist Tracy Emin was supposed to represent 'vibrancy and flair for self-expression' that revealed a 'frank and brutal honesty.' Nope can't see it, to Pighead that picture says nothing except she posseses bad bedroom management skills as she's not utilising the space available to her. Beds should be in corners or at the very least up against one of the walls.

http://www.tate.org.uk/britain/turnerprize/images/emin_bed.jpg

But every now and again a piece of wanky arty farty art does hit home into Pigheads head and makes him go "Hmmm, you know what Pighead? Thats actually not bad"

One such instance was the plastic bag scene in American Beauty.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xu8_8TJC9E8

Stopped Pighead dead in his tracks. Didn't really know what it meant but it damn well made an impression. Supposedly it's supposed to represent the firmness and suppleness of Mira Sorvino's breasts but Pighead's not so sure.

Anyway what wanky arty farty pieces of art have made an impression on you?

Ruu_Old

Took me down to meet the anarchist party
Met a groovy guy, he was arty farty
Said: "I know a little Latin, a kissen an a kai
Said: "I dunno what it means", I said: "Neither do I"

Not really arty farty but Riverdance is brilliant, don't tell me the hairs don't stand up on the back of Pigheads neck everytime he hears it.

biko

Don't tell anyone but when I first heard Paul Potts sing Nessum Dorma I got goose bumps

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA

CliffHuxtabel

Pighead wrote: »

Supposedly it's supposed to represent the firmness and suppleness of Mira Sorvino's breasts but Pighead's not so sure

Mena Suvari?

nyarlothothep

I like rothco



I also like modern classical music

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WYsn4FeOM1Q

cornbb

Some experimental music (proper arty farty music, not experimental-lite) has had quite an effect on me:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVN_mxVntXk

I would consider this piece to be the aural equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting.

RedXIV

biko wrote: »

Don't tell anyone but when I first heard Paul Potts sing Nessum Dorma I got goose bumps

Similar as above, this kid blew my mind

Pighead

biko wrote: »

Don't tell anyone but when I first heard Paul Potts sing Nessum Dorma I got goose bumps

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA

RedXIV wrote: »

Similar as above, this kid blew my mind

So the two of you are labelling two fat fcukers singing karaoke on a Simon Cowell primetime Saturday evening show as arty farty?

Suddenly Pighead feels a lot more sophisticated.

Rb

Pighead wrote: »

So the two of you are labelling two fat fcukers singing karaoke on a Simon Cowell primetime Saturday evening show as arty farty?

Suddenly Pighead feels a lot more sophisticated.

In fairness Pighead, they're both country muckers, what could you expect?

Opera shatters me emotionally.

Twee.

I love watching ballet, gives me the chills! Here's Mikhail Baryshnikov, who may be better known to most as "The Russian" from SATC!

taidghbaby

Moonbaby wrote: »

Opera shatters me emotionally.

went to an opera once....shat something alright but it werent me emotions!!

kraggy

Once saw a quartet play Pachelbel's Canon on Shop Street in Galway some years ago. That was pretty spine-tingling.

Also, Damien Rice's opening song in Wembley Arena last October (9 Songs, solo with just piano) was also memorable, though I'm not really into him anymore.

Plus a few times I've gone to theatre.

GirlInterrupted

Vogliatemi bene, from Madame Butterfly as sung by Maria Callas (although it is a duet) brings me to tears.

cornbb

How is Damien Rice arty farty? This is arty farty...

GirlInterrupted

cornbb wrote: »

How is Damien Rice arty farty? This is arty farty...

And how can the contemplation of nothingness not be arty farty?
A vision of internal emptiness....the void within the psyche of us all.... a statement of nullity...... very meaningful and profound it is.

Philistine:D.

cianclarke

cornbb wrote: »

How is Damien Rice arty farty? This is arty farty...

Solo piano? Sounds pretty arty farty to me. Especially since it's Lisa who played piano if I'm not mistaken, and not Damo the tosspot.

And that ^^ I hope is a joke..!

Steve01

Pighead wrote: »

Supposedly it's supposed to represent the firmness and suppleness of Mira Sorvino's breasts but Pighead's not so sure.

Off-topic but Mira Sorvino is way hotter than Mena Suvari

bluto63

I love the works of Giacomo Balla.

http://www2.polito.it/didattica/polymath/htmlS/Interventi/Articoli/MATEMATICA_palcoscenico/Img/image001.jpg

Also Gerald Barrys Piano Concerto No. 1, a mad piece but genius at the same time

Pighead

foot_guy wrote: »

W*nker

Pigheads sensing a post modernist arty farty vibe off this foot_guy character. He's using the term w*nker in a complimentary "I wish I had a penis like you" type fashion. Keep an eye on this guy. He could be the one to raise the intellectual tones around here.

solas

this place would be lost without you pighead

As for arty farty, theres few poems that do it for me

blow, blow, thou winter wind,
thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;

shakespeare was a funny guy

as for our own, I hope someone gives this woman a publishing deal

LadyE

biko wrote: »

Don't tell anyone but when I first heard Paul Potts sing Nessum Dorma I got goose bumps

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA

Me too! Everyone takes the piss tho.

I find him strangly attractive too

cornbb

cianclarke wrote: »

Solo piano? Sounds pretty arty farty to me. Especially since it's Lisa who played piano if I'm not mistaken, and not Damo the tosspot.

And that ^^ I hope is a joke..!

Nope, its no joke: http://www.guggenheim.com/exhibitions/singular_forms/highlights_1a.html

Are you still trying to tell me Damien Rice's solo piano looks arty farty alongside some white paintings?

Here's some proper arty farty solo piano:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HypmW4Yd7SY

ojewriej

I'm not really into arts myself, but i really like Salvador Dali's paintings, like The Ship or The persistence of memory

30txsbzmcu2k9w

Jandek. Interesting story behind this fella if you care to read. he played in Trinity earlier on this week.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jandek

Jandek is the musical project of an outsider musician who operates out of Houston, Texas. Since 1978, Jandek has self-released 53 albums of unusual, often emotionally dissolute folk and blues songs without ever granting more than the occasional interview or providing any biographical information.
Only a handful of people claim to have contacted Jandek, a.k.a Sterling Richard Smith. He releases albums through his own record label Corwood Industries. He keeps a Houston post office box so fans can write to Corwood for a typewritten catalogue and order Jandek’s albums, usually at inexpensive prices. Jandek’s work has been available on vinyl, compact disc and DVD. Many of his albums feature pictures of the same man at various ages; although it seemed likely, it was not until Jandek's live debut in 2004 that it became certain that the person depicted on the album covers was the principal performer.

Terry

NSFW

kraggy

cornbb wrote: »

How is Damien Rice arty farty? This is arty farty...

Damien Rice, under normal circumstances is not arty farty (whatever that means anyway)

But on that night, with the way the stage was set-up and the way the performance was carried out, was definitely not conventional entertainment.

Also, I'd consider Banksy's work pretty intellectual/"arty-farty. Very interesting and looks good.

TomCo

Why do people keep posting pop-idol or whatever the hell videos, bunch of uncultured **** ****s.

Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings is awesome, as is the poetry of Sylvia Plath

Pighead

TomCo wrote: »

Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings is awesome, as is the poetry of Sylvia Plath

April 18th

the slime of all my yesterdays
rots in the hollow of my skull

and if my stomach would contract
because of some explicable phenomenon
such as pregnancy or constipation

I would not remember you

or that because of sleep
infrequent as a moon of greencheese
that because of food
nourishing as violet leaves
that because of these

and in a few fatal yards of grass
in a few spaces of sky and treetops

a future was lost yesterday
as easily and irretrievably
as a tennis ball at twilight

No offence TomCo but thats rubbish. And before you start saying that Pighead doesn't understand it you're wrong. Basically some bloke got her pregnant, she got a craving for green cheese, felt nauseous, he left her, she has a whinge. The End. Nope, its rubbish TomCo, sorry mate.

There was a crap poet called Sylvia Plath,
TomCo tried saying her poems were all that,
but Pighead found out that her rhymes they were pants,
if she was a footballer she'd be playing with France.

TomCo

Sorry Pighead, that was a typo. I meant Emily Dickinson, I always get those two crazy broads mixed up.
Still, your poem is still almost relevant, sort of, ish.

FlutterinBantam

"The pristine whiteness of the pewter
The cold white kiss like deaths right hand
the hiss of gasses slowly easing
the painful clutch of an iron band

***************************
The rythmic parting of the water
like a holt of otters from a sandy bank
like the gentle paddle of well fed goldfish
as they move and sway in their deep green tank

*********************************
Away away in a rush of thunder
Away and never seen again
I held you once within my body
returned you back from whence you came


Never tire of those words... Keats was it, or Shelley??

Earthhorse

I suppose if poetry is considered arty-farty then sign me up.

Bit of ee cummings

the boys i mean are not refined

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a **** for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a **** for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

More here.

Earthhorse

ojewriej wrote: »

I'm not really into arts myself, but i really like Salvador Dali's paintings, like The Ship or The persistence of memory

He's one of the few artists whose work I consistently admire. Him and Escher.

Joe Cool

Yeah Escher here too:

http://veritasdomain.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/escher-waterfall-medium.jpg

or Hieronymus Bosch:

http://www.apocalyptic-theories.com/gallery/lastjudge/bosch.jpg

cornbb

Terry wrote: »

NSFW

Good f*cking call Terry man. A Clockwork Orange is the definition of awesome, Wendy/Walter Carlos can do Beethoven like no-one else, and Stanley Kubrick is every man's arty-farty. Ten thumbs up.

phantom_lord

Something For The Touts, The Nuns, The Grocery Clerks, And You . . .

we have everything and we have nothing
and some men do it in churches
and some men do it by tearing butterflies
in half
and some men do it in Palm Springs
laying it into butterblondes
with Cadillac souls
Cadillacs and butterflies
nothing and everything,
the face melting down to the last puff
in a cellar in Corpus Christi.
there's something for the touts, the nuns,
the grocery clerks and you . . .
something at 8 a.m., something in the library
something in the river,
everything and nothing.
in the slaughterhouse it comes running along
the ceiling on a hook, and you swing it --
one
two
three
and then you've got it, $200 worth of dead
meat, its bones against your bones
something and nothing.
it's always early enough to die and
it's always too late,
and the drill of blood in the basin white
it tells you nothing at all
and the gravediggers playing poker over
5 a.m. coffee, waiting for the grass
to dismiss the frost . . .
they tell you nothing at all.

we have everything and we have nothing --
days with glass edges and the impossible stink
of river moss -- worse than ****;
checkerboard days of moves and countermoves,
fagged interest, with as much sense in defeat as
in victory; slow days like mules
humping it slagged and sullen and sun-glazed
up a road where a madman sits waiting among
bluejays and wrens netted in and sucked a flakey
grey.
good days too of wine and shouting, fights
in alleys, fat legs of women striving around
your bowels buried in moans,
the signs in bullrings like diamonds hollering
Mother Capri, violets coming out of the ground
telling you to forget the dead armies and the loves
that robbed you.
days when children say funny and brilliant things
like savages trying to send you a message through
their bodies while their bodies are still
alive enough to transmit and feel and run up
and down without locks and paychecks and
ideals and possessions and beetle-like
opinions.
days when you can cry all day long in
a green room with the door locked, days
when you can laugh at the breadman
because his legs are too long, days
of looking at hedges . . .

and nothing, and nothing, the days of
the bosses, yellow men
with bad breath and big feet, men
who look like frogs, hyenas, men who walk
as if melody had never been invented, men
who think it is intelligent to hire and fire and
profit, men with expensive wives they possess
like 60 acres of ground to be drilled
or shown-off or to be walled away from
the incompetent, men who'd kill you
because they're crazy and justify it because
it's the law, men who stand in front of
windows 30 feet wide and see nothing,
men with luxury yachts who can sail around
the world and yet never get out of their vest
pockets, men like snails, men like eels, men
like slugs, and not as good . . .
and nothing, getting your last paycheck
at a harbor, at a factory, at a hospital, at an
aircraft plant, at a penny arcade, at a
barbershop, at a job you didn't want
anyway.
income tax, sickness, servility, broken
arms, broken heads -- all the stuffing
come out like an old pillow.

we have everything and we have nothing.
some do it well enough for a while and
then give way. fame gets them or disgust
or age or lack of proper diet or ink
across the eyes or children in college
or new cars or broken backs while skiing
in Switzerland or new politics or new wives
or just natural change and decay --
the man you knew yesterday hooking
for ten rounds or drinking for three days and
three nights by the Sawtooth mountains now
just something under a sheet or a cross
or a stone or under an easy delusion,
or packing a bible or a golf bag or a
briefcase: how they go, how they go! -- all
the ones you thought would never go.

days like this. like your day today.
maybe the rain on the window trying to
get through to you. what do you see today?
what is it? where are you? the best
days are sometimes the first, sometimes
the middle and even sometimes the last.
the vacant lots are not bad, churches in
Europe on postcards are not bad. people in
wax museums frozen into their best sterility
are not bad, horrible but not bad. the
cannon, think of the cannon, and toast for
breakfast the coffee hot enough you
know your tongue is still there, three
geraniums outside a window, trying to be
red and trying to be pink and trying to be
geraniums, no wonder sometimes the women
cry, no wonder the mules don't want
to go up the hill. are you in a hotel room
in Detroit looking for a cigarette? one more
good day. a little bit of it. and as
the nurses come out of the building after
their shift, having had enough, eight nurses
with different names and different places
to go -- walking across the lawn, some of them
want cocoa and a paper, some of them want a
hot bath, some of them want a man, some
of them are hardly thinking at all. enough
and not enough. arcs and pilgrims, oranges
gutters, ferns, antibodies, boxes of
tissue paper.

in the most decent sometimes sun
there is the softsmoke feeling from urns
and the canned sound of old battleplanes
and if you go inside and run your finger
along the window ledge you'll find
dirt, maybe even earth.
and if you look out the window
there will be the day, and as you
get older you'll keep looking
keep looking
sucking your tongue in a little
ah ah no no maybe

some do it naturally
some obscenely
everywhere.



my father and the bum



my father believed in work.
he was proud to have a
job.
sometimes he didn't have a
job and then he was very
ashamed.
he'd be so ashamed that he'd
leave the house in the morning
and then come back in the evening
so the neighbors wouldn't
know.

me,
I liked the man next door:
he just sat in a chair in
his back yard and threw darts
at some circles he had painted
on the side of his garage.
in Los Angeles in 1930
he had a wisdom that
Goethe, Hegel, Kierkegaard,
Nietzsche, Freud,
Jaspers, Heidegger and
Toynbee would find hard
to deny.

Stercus Accidit

FlutterinBantam wrote: »

"The pristine whiteness of the pewter
The cold white kiss like deaths right hand
the hiss of gasses slowly easing
the painful clutch of an iron band

***************************
The rythmic parting of the water
like a holt of otters from a sandy bank
like the gentle paddle of well fed goldfish
as they move and sway in their deep green tank

*********************************
Away away in a rush of thunder
Away and never seen again
I held you once within my body
returned you back from whence you came


Never tire of those words... Keats was it, or Shelley??

I get it, you're the taking a dump guy.

Yeah I get art me, poems are art right?

marcsignal

The Cure

they were arty farty in my day

Heisenberg.

This post has been deleted.

jester77

my arty farty number 1 would be figaro, really enjoyed it!!

Next would be the tranny sex show I saw, which was an eye opener. Didn't think I would ever get it wrong!

PeadarofAodh

I've got Escher and Dali posters up on my wall - love seeing people trying to figure out the structure of the mill waterfall!

Also enjoy a spot of the 'ol classical, mostly Bach. Get too into it and preach to the flatmates about the different themes etc until they eventually get fed up of my pretentious enthusiasm and tell me to shut up

Steve_o

The Scientist wrote: »

Elephants reflecting swans is his best i think...

Cant beat a bit of Larkin or Sassoon to stir your inner art fart though...

This is one of my favourite ever paintings!!!

Anyone listen to the Icelandic band Sigur Rós? The untitiled album (second last album i think), had a completely invented language called hoflandish which was invented by the singer(I think?, correct me if i'm wrong)... beautiful piece i must say!

Sigur Rós

Earthhorse

phantom_lord wrote: »

Something For The Touts, The Nuns, The Grocery Clerks, And You . . .

my father and the bum

I was gonna put Bukowski either. Kinda a working man's arty farty.

Jay P

Mozart's Piano Concerto no.23 in A major. I's very nice. Good aul Leaving Cert.

jester77

Steve_o wrote: »

This is one of my favourite ever paintings!!!

Anyone listen to the Icelandic band Sigur Rós? The untitiled album (second last album i think), had a completely invented language called hoflandish which was invented by the singer(I think?, correct me if i'm wrong)... beautiful piece i must say!

Sigur Rós

Class act and they put on a great gig, check out mum as well

Dali is great, so vivid!
My fave type of art is pop art, Jasper Johns, Warhol, etc.

Sanjuro

Me favorite filum is 2001: A Space Odyssey. One of the more farty of all arty filums.

ojewriej

cornbb wrote: »

Good f*cking call Terry man. A Clockwork Orange is the definition of awesome, Wendy/Walter Carlos can do Beethoven like no-one else, and Stanley Kubrick is every man's arty-farty. Ten thumbs up.

I loved the book, but film didn't really do it for me for some reason.

For anyone who likes Dali, Esche, Bosch etc., check out Zdzislaw Beksinski and Stainislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz (Witkacy). They were both mad as hatters. Witkacy was famous for painting under influence of various substances, he even marked some of his works, i.e whether he was on peyotl, morphine, or good old vodka when he painted it.

Dun laoire

Mike Oldfield