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Sometimes I really love people and their ability to be completely oblivious to the fact that I’m taking photos of them because they’re wearing two different shoes, a bobby pin in their hair (not pictured) and moving their hand in front of their genitals in a way that suggests imminent masturbation.
Other times, I work on building my sterilization gun.
I discovered these Jesus figurines back when AOL was still popular and Napster was still free. If you’re not familiar with either of those phenomenons, then I’ll translate: it was a really long time ago. I was fairly young, and I remember wishing that I was one of the five people on the internet who knew html so I could post it somewhere and then Tom wouldn’t be Tom from Myspace, I would.
I’m probably tardy to the party, but whatever. If I limited myself to writing about things that no one has ever written about, I’d be stuck with “Louie Anderson’s Fitness Tips” and “10 Easy Ways to Milk a Rat”, so Jesus figurines it is. They come from Catholic Shopper, and this may shock you based on how polished the site looks, but it hasn’t changed since 1997. There is one addition, however, that announces, “Many customers have requested these Jesus Sport Statues depicting children other than Caucasian and playing other sports” which just offends me because white people playing football with Jesus is quite possibly the most natural pairing you could ask for.
Girls and boys are predictably depicted in gender appropriate activities. Boys play baseball and football, while girls do ballet and gymnastics. In every case, Jesus seems to be getting way too close. I know that Jesus is like that platonic geeky friend who wants to take you to the dance and you refuse because he doesn’t have a Trans Am, but when the rich jerk with great hair dumps you for the blonde, bitchy ex-girlfriend, he’s there to pick up the pieces and take you to the coolest record store in town. Still though–I’m not convinced. That “Hey let me teach you how to swing a bat so that you can feel my genitals through my robe” move only works on a first or second date, and even then, it’s like “Whoa dude tell me don’t show me.”
Jesus is shown in his signature holy tunic and sandals in every scene, even while playing soccer, aside from one–hockey. Turning water into wine and rising from the dead makes perfect sense, but it seems that playing hockey without ice skates is simply illogical.
Sure, I’m as sacrilegious as they come, but even I draw the line at clotheslining Jesus. Have fun in hell, asshole.
Art is hard.
Majoring in Art History required a few studio courses, of which I was average at best in performance. Drawing cow skulls and making 3-D models out of paper just wasn’t my thing I guess. I’d like it to be, but since I haven’t much of an aptitude for it, I studied it instead. I don’t consider myself to be part of a group or a circle, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t realize that if you’re not into Art History, then you think it’s fucking boring, fucking hard, or fucking both.
During my four years with art history, I came across a lot of people I didn’t like. These are people who were so organized that their bowel movements had their own planners, and really, just weren’t like me at all . Mostly because they combed their hair and listened to Josh Groban.
Anyway, aside from the Stepford Wives it seems to attract, I think Art History is a lot of fun. It’s not all about da Vinci and antiquated slide machines. There’s chicks with strap-ons , canned shit, and now, Kehinde Wiley.
Ice T By Kehinde Wiley Oil on canvas, 2005 Private Collection, courtesy Rhona Hoffman Gallery; © Kehinde Wiley
Napoleon on his Imperial throne by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780–1867), painted 1806.
Based in New York, Wiley paints his portraits from photographs of men he sees on the street. His scenes are borrowed from the studios of Ingres and Titian in order to exalt his subjects to a position of historical significance, while simultaneously questioning the role of African American men (and their profiles of masculinity) in contemporary society. He is nondiscriminatory when it comes to period styles, and is a wet dream for anyone who enjoys realism, contemporary social commentary, or Ice T.
Art is like urine, there’s no controlling it and there’s especially no guarantee that you will like what I like, but I can’t help but wet myself whenever I realize that Kehinde Wiley’s art exists for my viewing pleasure.
