Blog About Photography

Once a year, the New Yorker descends into self-parody in order to sell expensive real estate to high-end advertisers and bump up issue sales. They call this the style issue, and I carried it around for a week befor I even opened it and man oh man is it a waste of time. They confront such complex problems as counterfeit handbags and where to shop in Dallas, TX while throwing in a couple of extra reviews of art and architecture. Not even the first 30 or so pages are free of commercial blight; music critic Sasha Fere-Jones pens a few words for ‘critic’s notebook’ reviewing the viral marketing campaign for the forthcoming Nine Inch Nails album, which he refers to as an artform.

I don’t mean to be closed minded here. My art is all about scavenging the pop culture wasteland, presenting what I find quth a mixture of reverence and disgust – that’s what I do. But where’s the disgust?

I will say though that whenever the New Yorker does a double issue, they run some pretty hilarious cartoons.

Posted on Monday, March 19th, 2007 at 8:23 pm