Whoa. I just talked to my most hated modern artist.

[Staniforth.]

Claude Tousignant. The Quebec artist world-renowned for his
solid 1-colour and 2-colour canvasses (that, as far as I figure it,
ripped Barnett Newman right off, but critics seem to adore the shit)
which he generally makes a minimum of $100 000 a piece for. They're
just canvasses painted with one colour. Solid. I *hate* his art, and
all the theory behind it ("long live the death of representation!"
...blech.). The most pretentious fucking crap in the world. Vile, vile,
vile. Hate it.

Anyway, so I'm sitting at my desk reading about the Cornerstone Festival
(christian rock pretending to be "undergroud," with spotlights on how to
overcome homosexuality, etc), and the phone rings. I look at the number,
and it says "Tousignant, C" on it. I was baffled. I answered, and sure
enough, it was old Claude. Apparently we did a book of his work a few
years back, and he wanted to buy some of our remaining copies. He was
very nice. I was very polite. But christ, do I ever hate his art.

--
"Twinkle, Twinkle. ...Blah blah blah."
-- Minutemen

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