by Maria Rios

Last month I wrote what I thought was the warm-up piece to a series of reviews on "coffeehouse art." Now I'm straying away from the coffeehouse scene (for a while) to wallow in guilt and shame before a cup of the store-bought variety to be enjoyed at home, where the walls are tastefully blank, the color of an aesthetic begotten by poverty.

I made a few calls after visiting some venues, and I came to find that this time around, my critical eye didn't come away stabbed by most of the work. In fact, Star Seeds and Longhorn Po' Boys Downtown seem to have talent up at reasonable prices, even. I am somewhat disappointed by the responses I got from other quarters, most of them being either not interesting or non-existent -- especially after not having the courage to ask them "how the hell do you dare market this stuff?" I figure I know the answer to this, as does the rest of the world who pays utility bills.

It was during one conversation that some sparks flew. I'll admit that he provoked me. His images, he said, were "tailor-made to the viewer's perspective" and that he or she should see what he or she is inspired to see. This is the paraphrased version of "getting out of it what you want to." I promptly let him know of what his abstractions remind me. The words "smearing" and "waste" came up in my answer, along with the fact that I had forgotten which painter I thought had inspired his canvass layered thoughtfully with cheap acrylics.

He asked me to repeat what I had said. I simply told him that I didn't agree with most of his work. I then got attacked for being brainwashed by the establishment, one still more biased than most. Next came his declaration of his right of expression. Then, of course, came the accusation that I didn't understand his message of peace, love and harmony...it went on and on. And, yes, I'm coloring his words and editing the filler texts of pauses, "you-know-what-I-means," and a few expletives. So what have I learned with all of this?

For me to understand the painting of a bad artist, I apparently also need to hear his/her lecture on how my opinion is morally devoid of all social consciousness and how I should be more inclined to see the obviously great distance between the critic and artist. This I already know to be true about my opinions.

What I find in this kind of material art -- work which intends to make the populace aware of the importance of saving the environment, for example -- tends not only to be preachy, but contradictory to its mission. How many sketchpads went into the preparation for this work? Killing trees to scribble trees on canvas with toxic paints seems to miss the point, in my opinion. And besides, I don't want to be screamed at by anyone's mission, because then their art slides toward advertising and propaganda, and yet another cultural no-sale. So until the next coffeehouse artist offends me, and now I'm not so sure that that will ever be the case, I'll hope that maybe instead of choosing canvas, maybe they'll write a book.