The Monkey In The Room

Everyone knows that art is a highly competitive field. Always has been, always will be. Anyone who says they’e only in it for the joy of producing fine art, or “art for art’s sake,” hasn’t signed the back of a check lately.

But now it seems there is an emerging group of artists who care nothing about wire transfers and Pay Pal. They work wordlessly, in the background, churning out paintings by the buttload. Some even work for peanuts. These are… The Animal Artists. Highly motivated by the promise of bananas, smelt or lettuce leaves, these artists spend their days, crawling, smearing,and generally sucking-up to their patrons. They are truly shameless.

Not that I haven’t done my share of art grubbing®; sipping warm chardonnay and consuming small morsels of equally warm cheese at gallery openings. But really, how is that so different from Koopa the turtle, who trudged his way across 827 canvases in his day? He sold himself for a head of Iceberg and a dream.

And finally, is there an abstract expressionist out there who honestly hasn’t heard someone whisper, “A monkey could do that?” I suppose it would sting more except I actually have seen a lot of monkey art (I’m very lonely) and some of it is pretty good.

So I, for one, welcome the animal artists and the competitive spirit they bring. At least if I lose out to a painting dolphin (yes, there is such a thing) I know I’ve lost to the very beast.

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